


To Stay the Winter

by MaevesChild



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bloodplay, Cabin Fic, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Tension, Witcher 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Kaer Morhen, Eskel says he's done; he's leaving and not coming back.  He's not entirely serious and makes a half-hearted attempt at leaving entirely too late in the season.  Snow and injury force him to change plans, at least until Spring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow White, Blood Red

He knew he would be back.

Eskel told Geralt he was done with Kaer Morhen but that was like being done with being a Witcher.  It's not as if he could just stop being what he was.  He'd be back eventually.  But for now, Geralt and his sorceress were in White Orchard and Lambert had decided to stay in Novigrad for the winter, all of them not wanting to deal with the grief and blood-soaked stones.

He couldn't bear the idea of sitting here all winter alone, staring at Vesemir's grave and trying to drink himself to death.  He knew that's what he'd do if he didn't get out of here before the snow got too deep for Scorpion to navigate the trails.

He'd go back in spring; they'd need to rebuild what they could, get the holes the Wild Hunt and Ciri blew into the walls fixed up.  Maybe the new Empress could send some coin and men to help them.  His mouth curled.  He knew she would if they asked. He always liked her, even as a child.

For now, as the first snows fell, he went west, planning to get over the mountains and into Redania before the worst of it.  But he'd waited too long and the snow really started coming down before he made the pass.  Probably for the best, since he would have been completely fucked if the snow had come while he was in the mountains.  

There were plenty of tiny villages on the road but not a lot of places for a Witcher.  He wasn't Geralt; there wasn't a line of women just waiting to share his bed.  He just hoped he could find an inn or an old woman or something before it got even worse.  The cold wasn't going to kill him, but it wasn't going to be pleasant either.

In the distance, there was some smoke rising.  Farmstead or village, Eskel couldn't really recall.  He'd been through here plenty of times but it was so familiar that he never really paid attention.  He was hungry and at this point, he just wanted a fire and something to eat and a few hours out of the weather.  He was getting close when the woods exploded in a flurry of grey fur.  Wolves. Any other day, they would be hardly a threat but there were a lot of them, packed together to hunt.  They caught him off guard, cold and tired and thinking with his stomach instead of his brain.

He managed to dispatch most of them and drive off the rest, but not before one tore a hole with wicked fangs through his pants into the meat of his thigh.  Blood poured out of the ragged wound and stained the snow, already red with wolf blood.

He took the thing's head clean off, but that didn't undo the damage.

"Shit," Eskel muttered to himself, sliding his steel sword back into the scabbard on his back.  The blood oozed, but didn't spurt.  Not an artery at least.  Hurt like a bitch.

Scorpion tore off in the other direction. Stupid horse was always flighty.  He always came back, but that wasn't going to help him right now.

"Ploughing bullshit," he swore at himself, taking a step and realizing he'd really done some damage.  Travelling in the winter hadn't been one of his better ideas.  There was a reason he wasn't the one saving the world with a pack of sorceresses vying for his attention.  

It wasn't that he wasn't happy Ciri wasn't dead and the world wasn't still being invaded by the Wild Hunt.  That was great.  But everything was different; Vesemir was dead, Ciri wasn't a little girl anymore and Geralt had himself so far up Yennefer's skirt, Eskel was pretty sure he was never getting out again.

He was grieving and jealous and lonely and now bleeding like a stuck pig miles from anywhere.  Witcher mutations might blunt his emotions so he could focus, but that didn't mean he didn't have any at all.  He was just a man and lately. a stupid, distracted one.  He whistled for Scorpion, but he didn't return.  Eskel growled.

_Fuck._  

He limped forward.  If he hadn't been a Witcher, he probably would have laid down in the snow and died.  But he was a Witcher.  A good one too most of the time, even if he was careful enough to not get famous.

Each step felt like daggers in his thigh.  Accelerated healing or no, he was going to need at least a few weeks to be back to normal.  If he had been religious he would have prayed to someone that whomever was tending the fire in the distance didn't hate mutants.  But Eskel had seen enough to know religion was for suckers, so instead he just trudged on, gritting his teeth against the pain and leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He survived his face being sliced to pieces.  He'd survive this too.

 

***

 

There was a hut on the edge of a village next to a little stream that ran along the road here, the water sparkling in little open patches in the ice.  It was pretty and he stopped to stare for a minute before looking back up again.  Brain was a little foggy.

The rest of the village wasn't far off, but he was frozen through and he knew he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood.  If the people in this hut wouldn't let him in, even his Witcher's constitution wasn't going to be enough.

There were several strands of beads tacked to the rough door, some leaves carved from wood.

_An herbalist maybe?_   In the window next to the door there was a statuette, backlit by the fire.  A woman.  Curvy.  Nice tits.  It was undeniably a carving of Melitele.

_A healer? Could he be that lucky?_

Eskel pounded on the door with the heel of his hand, afraid he'd split his knuckles on the wood, so cold from the snow and blood loss.  He leaned heavily against the door frame.  A little puddle of blood stained the snow. 

His boot felt wet inside.

The door creaked open, warm air rushing into the cold.  Eskel felt dizzy.  He closed his eyes.  He thought he might  have said something, but he wasn't sure.

"Yes, can I help you?" a woman's voice asked.  It was deep and a little raspy and he liked it.  Eskel managed to flick his eyes up but he couldn't focus enough to see the owner of the voice other than a flash of pale skin, red hair.  

"Oh, a Witcher," she said, spotting his feline eyes.  He waited for the disgust and accusations, but they didn't come.

Eskel tried to speak, but his mouth was dry.   _So dry._

"Can you-" was all get could manage.  

"Sweet Mother...the blood."  She sounded worried. "How are you still alive?"

He felt her hand under his elbow.  He tried to answer her. The world tilted sideways.

Eskel never even felt it when he hit the ground.

 

 ***

 

He woke up feeling like this head was full of rocks.  He hadn't felt this terrible since waking up after the last time drinking with Geralt and Lambert.  That night, he ended up in a dress and he seriously considered never drinking again.  Didn't take.  Like Lambert always said, he needed it. Feeling human for a while was nice. 

But Eskel didn't remember drinking, he...  _shit._   He tried to sit up and a shooting pain ran through his leg.  He managed not to scream, but he let loose a string of curses that almost offended him.

He heard a chuckle from the other side of the room.

"Guess that means you're going to make it," the voice said.  "Wasn't sure for a while there."

Eskel didn't bother trying to sit up, just put his hand over his eyes. "Sorry."

"For the profanity?" She laughed.  "Not the first time I've heard it."  Eskel could hear her breathing, heard her get up and walk closer.  Her shadow fell across him.  "What's your name, witcher?"

"Eskel."  He didn't trust himself to say anything further.  His leg throbbed. He was cold.  He felt like Lambert, wanting to bitch about the temperature even inside under a blanket.

She didn't seem concerned about his manners.  Her breathing didn't change.  "I'm Maya," she said. Her shadow flickered and she sat on the edge of the bed, sliding the blanket back and inspecting his leg.  Her fingers were warm when they fiddled with the gauze she had apparently put over his wound.  "Bleeding's stopped finally.  Want to try to sit up? You need to drink, make some new blood."

He wasn't keen on the idea, but he managed, his head swimming.  He was colder when he sat up.  She'd managed to undress him somehow.  Eskel blinked at her, trying to focus his eyes.  

She was small, red haired and an elf, of all things.  Maya handed him a wooden tankard full of something warm that smelled like honey.  He drank it obediently.  

"How'd you-" His tongue still felt a little too big for his mouth.  "How'd you get me off the floor? Out of my clothes?"

Maya smiled with one side of her mouth and shrugged.  "Stronger than I look."

Whatever was in the tankard worked quickly.  He felt warmer.  His eyes focused.  He took another long drink.  Honeyed broth, celendine and something.  He could feel his heartbeat speed up, return to normal.  

"Thank you," he said, letting her take the empty tankard from him.  

"Lucky you made it here.  Another hour and there would have been nothing to do but build you a nice pyre." She tilted her head.  "From the looks of it, you've been lucky more than once." 

Scars.  Like most witchers, he was covered with them and not just his face.  He survived things that would kill most humans.  Would have been ridiculous to die from a wolf bite.  He just grumbled as a reply.  He was grateful, but didn't really want to chat about how he looked like a walking pincushion.

Maya shook her head at him.  "Not real talkative, are you?"

He actually cracked a smile.  "Not really, not without a drink."

"Witcher or not, I could get you drunk on a thimbleful of spirits right now."  She looked amused and tucked a lock of ginger hair behind her pointed ear.  She caught him staring.

Maya made a face.  "Come on then, get it out of your system."

"Didn't expect an elf," he said.  Felt strange to just say it, but she had told him to do it.

She shrugged again.  "I didn't expect a blood soaked witcher in the middle of a snow storm either," she said, emotionless.  "Should I call you dh'oine?" She sighed irritably.  "Let me tell you what I tell everyone else.  I don't know anything about being an elf.  I was raised in the Temple of Melitele in  Ellander. Learned some healing in between cleaning up and then got out of there because I got tired of being singled out. Oh, and of course, yes, I know the Empress was schooled there and no, I didn't know her. I was gone by then."  

Eskel raised an eyebrow at her, considering.  "I know her," he said.  "She's damn good with a sword."

"Of course you do."  She didn't look impressed.  She flipped the blanket back down over his leg and stood up, stalking across the room her attitude suddenly radiating frustration.  He couldn't even figure out what he did to annoy her.  But as long as she didn't throw him back out into the snow?

Eskel leaned back against the wall behind the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.  He closed his eyes.  He must have drifted off to sleep, finally warm and not bleeding to death.  Maybe she was crazy and what woman wasn't, but she was good enough not to leave him to die.

He'd have to think of a way to repay her later.

He didn't remember much after that.

 

***

 

Eskel woke to the tangy scent of mulled wine and bread yeast.  Through the window he could see that it was night; still night or the next night he had no idea.  Maya was stirring a heavy cast iron pot swung over the fire.  Fine steam rose up with the delicious scent.  Her hair was tied in a knot at the back of her neck, sort of like Triss wore hers all the time.  She wasn't at all like the sorceress though, or much like any elf he'd ever met.  

Now that she wasn't looking, he looked.  Witcher training taught him to carefully observe everything, so looking at the decidedly not elf like plump curve of her ass, well, that was just what he was supposed to do.  Probably had some human in her.

_If she didn't, Eskel wondered if she'd like some; he was human-ish anyway._

Well, apparently he was feeling better.  How long had he been out? 

He tried moving more than his eyelids.  His leg was still sore, but the pain was dulled.  His head actually felt like his head instead of a sack of garbage.  All in all, he felt better.  

Maya heard him stir and she turned around.  She smiled.  "Good, I was beginning to think I'd made a mistake and you weren't going to wake up."

Eskel was confused.  "Whatdya mean?"

She raised a finger, indicating he wait, then filled two mugs from the pot with a wooden ladle.  She crossed to him and handed one to him, setting the other on the table next to the bed.  She sat down and pulled back the blanket and gauze, exposing rows of tiny perfect stitches holding together the wound in his leg.  

"There was psilocybe in the drink I gave you.  I couldn't sew you up if you were thrashing around.  I know Witchers are supposed to be, well, but there's over fifty stitches here.  I couldn't take the chance. "  She frowned.  "I would have told you, but clearly you're stubborn as a mule or you'd never even have gotten here in the first place."

Eskel wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't, just inspecting her handiwork.  It was impressive.   Little even stitches managing to put that completely ragged wound back together.  He'd have a scar, but nothing like some of the others, wide and jagged.  There was one on his shoulder that looked like a starburst of raised flesh, where a Graveir put a hooked claw into him, hoping to snap some bones for a snack.  Eskel eviscerated it for its trouble. That scar looked like awful, purple and misshapen.  For a moment, he wondered what his face would look like if someone like her had been there to put him back together again when it happened, instead of Vesemir just stopping the bleeding and letting his Witcher metabolism do the rest.

She covered the line of stitches with fresh gauze and put the blanket back down.   She looked up at him and smirked.  

"What?"  

"You've been asleep for two days," she grinned at him.  "You need a hair brush."

His shoulder popped when he reached up to paw at his hair with his free hand.  Clearly sleeping for two days wasn't particularly good for him.  It wasn't out of the socket, but it hurt.  He looked at the mug with the other, ignoring the pain.  He sniffed the wine and deciding it was acceptable, downed the entire tankard in a single swallow.

Maya grimaced.  He wasn't sure if it was because of the shoulder or the drinking or something else.  Didn't really matter.  "That sounded bad.  Let me take a look."  She moved closer and took the empty mug from him and set it down absently.  She reached across him, little fingers touching his shoulder carefully.  She hummed in the back of her throat.  "Just too much time in the bed.  Should try to get you up and about, though I suppose you'd probably like something to wear at least. Hold on."  She started to get up but he grabbed her arm softly.  

"Thanks," he managed.  "Really."

Maya smiled at him.  "You're welcome.  Now, as much as I might enjoy a handsome naked Witcher wandering around, let me get you something to put on."  She rummaged in a basket near the fire.  "Trousers were a total loss I'm afraid.  But everything else is clean, if a bit blood stained."

Eskel snorted and tried to ignore how the fire made her dress almost transparent.  "If you're looking for a handsome Witcher, he's in White Orchard." She gave him a dubious look over her shoulder before fishing something out and throwing it at him.  His reflexes worked even when he didn't think about it and he snatched the flying bundle of fabric out of the air.

Maya flipped her hair over her shoulder when she stood, crossing her arms just under the swell of her breasts and giving him another look.  Eskel suddenly felt like he was twelve years old and Vesemir was about to tell him why and how he'd fucked something up.  He hadn't been twelve in a very long time.

She shook her head at him.  She did that frequently; apparently he was frustrating.  "Now, why don't you see if you can get those on and we'll make sure you can still walk without an extraordinary amount of adrenaline."

She turned her back to him.

Eskel managed to get his legs off the bed and into the loose pants with a minimum of wincing.  Hardly the worst pain he'd ever felt.  He wriggled them up over his hips and tied the drawstring and tried to stand.  She heard him rustling about and turned around before he could get to his feet.

"You are stubborn," she said, coming and tucking herself under him arm.  "Come on now." 

It was easier with help, he wouldn't deny it.  Putting weight on his leg felt like shit, but he could do it.  He ground his teeth.

"Better than I expected," she mused as she limped him the few steps from the bed to a chair by the fire.  The cottage was tiny, one room with a divider on one end, a wooden bath and what looked like a second bed peeking out from behind it.  There were bunches of dried herbs and ingredients hanging from the rafters, shelves of potion bottles, bones and beads.  The chair was wooden and worn, but warm and sturdy and it didn't creak when she sat him down in it.  

"So Witcher," she said, leaning back against a workbench pushed up against the wall next to the hearth.  She crossed her ankles.  "What were you doing out here?  We haven't had any monster trouble lately.   There were some rotfiends in the cemetery a few years back after we had the Catriona, but nothing since then."

"I was on my way to Redania for the winter.  Just didn't make it."

"Good thing you didn't get any further.  It hasn't stopped snowing since you literally fell in the door."  She scrunched up her face.  "The old timers say you Witchers have some sort of fortress east of here.  Why aren't you there?"

Eskel looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  Was there anyone who didn't know about Kaer Morhen?  It was better when they weren't so well known except when something was killing people.  Geralt's fame made some things easier, but a lot more things difficult.

"Looks like that's what I'll have to do now, if the snow lets up and my horse comes back."

"Black stallion, with a Nilfgaard style saddle, right?"

Eskel nodded.

"He's in the stable with my mare.  I had a feeling he belonged to you." She shook her head.  "I also have a feeling I'll have a lovely hybrid foal come spring."

He couldn't help but chuckle, darkly.  "Fucking horse gets laid more than I do."

Maya boosted herself up on to the table and gave him another look.  "Why's that?"

Eskel leaned back in the chair and just shook his head. What, he had to point out his scars?  Hadn't she been looking at him for a few days now?

"All right, don't talk," she said, hopping back down quickly.  "I've heard Witchers heal fast, so I can probably take out your stitches in a week or two.  As long as it doesn't split back open, you could probably leave, provided the snow doesn't pile up.  Usually here in the valley it gets so that going to the neighbors is an all day event.  I don't know that you could get far."

"Wonderful," he muttered.  

She looked a little hurt.  Or so he thought.  He wasn't good at reading people.  "I'm sure its not what you were hoping for, but you're welcome here as long as you need.  I have plenty of supplies to last through even a long winter.  Better than being dead, right?"

"Much," he said.  He didn't mean to offend her if he had somehow.  But she was pretty and it was going to make him crazy cooped up in here with her with no outlet.  At least at Kaer Morhen, the only women that showed up were too dangerous to consider.  Once, he'd let his infatuation with Triss go to far.  Then he realized she was just dangling him to try to make Geralt jealous.  

Sorceresses always had ulterior motives.   It was fun, but it wasn't worth it.

He realized he hadn't said anything for a while, staring off into the fire. Maya was still as a stone, looking at him.  Her eyes were big pale circles in her face, studying him carefully.  

"Do all the scars have stories?" she asked quietly.  

"Most of them."  

She came closer, pointed to the big one at the crook of his shoulder.

"Graveir, in Temeria."

She nodded, just the tips of her fingers moving over his skin.  She stopped at three long gashes curved over his collarbone.

"Werewolf.  I think it was somewhere along the coast.  I can't remember."

Her fingers moved up the side of his neck to his face.  He knew she was going to ask, he knew it but her fingers distracted him from his throbbing leg and everything else.   

He never talked about it.  Sometimes he wondered if he should, but he couldn't.  

"I like these," she said, running her finger up over his chin and along his cheek.  She caught his eyes before she spoke again.  Maya opened her mouth and closed it again.  She let her hand fall to her side and cleared her throat.  "Are you hungry?" she asked.  "I made bread."

She didn't ask.  He liked her.

 

***

 

The snow piled up to the bottom of the window.  Maya dug a little path between the cottage and her stable.  Her mare would definitely foal in spring.  Eskel tried to apologize, but she was both amused and a little excited.  

She was good company.  He was having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Eskel wasn't like Geralt.  He didn't just hop into bed with random women.  He couldn't.  Dulled emotions or not, he got attached too easy.  It was why sorceresses were such a bad idea.  It was why he didn't like to talk about the scars on his face.

Wouldn't that be awkward, ending up in bed with the pretty elf and then be stuck here the rest of the winter, trying to pretend it didn't mean anything?

He knew it would, mean something, that is.  At least to him.

He owed her enough already. He owed her his life; he'd need to do something to repay her, and if that meant not making things weird, even when she flirted with him and made advances, well, so be it.

_Wasn't easy._   

She was funny and now that they were used to each other, she told the worst dirty jokes and told stories that Dandelion would have loved to steal.  Ellander was apparently a wild place to grow up.  Sounded nicer than growing up a Witcher, though that was a long time ago.

He wondered how old she was.  Elves did live a long time, like Witchers who were lucky enough not to bleed to death somewhere.

It was just past Yule now; she thought maybe a few more days for the stitches.  He wasn't in any hurry.  There was too much snow to go anywhere anyway.  It was almost midnight and they were on their second tankards of spiced wine, dinner of snow hare stew still warming his stomach.  Maya had pulled another chair up next to the fire, her skirt hanging down between her knees. 

She talked with her hands when she told stories.  

"And there he was, hanging from the corner of the fence by his knickers, wearing a flour sack as a hat, with the flour all over him."  She laughed.  "He never lived it down."

Eskel laughed.  Even he'd never been that drunk.  Even that time with the dress.

"You have good stories," he laughed.  

Maya drained her tankard and rested it on her knee.  "I bet yours are better, fighting monsters, saving ladies, all those things.  I wish you'd tell some."

Eskel shook his head.  "I'm no storyteller.  Besides, its mostly mucking about in swamps and almost no damsels in distress, unless it's a Bruxa or a succubus trying to convince you not to kill her."

"That happen often?" She looked incredulous.

He shrugged.  "Sometimes.  Mostly, it's drowners and ghouls."

"Hm."  She made the humming sound in the back of her throat.  "Still, I'd like to hear some.  Maybe I can have you tell me about more scars to jog your memory."

He gave her a sideways look.  "Should I just strip down then?"

"Any time you're inclined."  She smirked at him.

"Tease," Eskel grumbled.

Maya shook her head but didn't reply.  They'd been through this before.  She sighed, and he wasn't sure whether she was frustrated with him for resisting her or for thinking she was serious.  He honestly couldn't tell.

He didn't dare find out.  

She set her mug on the ground and scooted her chair across the floor until her knees were touching his.  She sat up straight and put her fingers under his chin, his thumb grazing over the bottom of the scars on his face.  Her thumb skidded over his bottom lip where the scar dug a groove into it.

"Why don't you tell me this story instead?" Her voice was quiet.

"No," he said, though he didn't pull away from her.  "I don't talk about it.  Wasn't a monster."

She moved her hand up along the side of his face, over his cheek up to where he'd just barely kept his eye.  

"These are hardly the biggest scars you have," she commented, her fingers stroking over them softly.  Her palm felt cool against his cheek and he closed his eyes without thinking about it.  "But they hurt you more, don't they?"

He nodded and let his face rest again her hand.  He felt her breath, warm and wine scented, ghost over his face.  

"I'm willing to listen, whatever this story is, when you're ready."  

Eskel took a long breath. He'd already told her more than anyone else.  "It's been, what 30 years?  I've never...."

Maya kissed his undamaged cheek softly.  He was too stunned to respond. "That's a long time to punish yourself for something someone else did to you."

He felt her stand and she tilted his face up as she did, brushing his hair back off his forehead.  She looked sad and compassionate and he couldn't think of any reason not to tell her everything, but the words didn't come.  

"Goodnight Witcher," she said and then disappeared behind the screen leaving Eskel staring after her.

He almost asked to her to wait, to stay.  But he didn't.  Sighing, he leaned back in the chair, his feet out stretched toward the fire.  He drank the last of his wine and closed his eyes again, letting his mind drift.

It wasn't that the injury was so terrible.  She was right.  It was his supposed destiny, his fate.  What failure was he that his face bore the brunt of his foolishness and then somewhere else, his supposed destiny, someone he never forgot, grew old and died without ever speaking to him again?

Sometimes, he wondered if he was right about what was in the letter he burned without opening.  He knew, but he didn't _know_.  It was a message, telling him Deirdre was dying and he just threw it away.

It ached a little behind his ribs.  He tried not to think anymore.


	2. Beauty and the Beast

She used a tiny knife to cut the stitches.  

 _Snick. Snick._ The blade sliced through the threads and she gently pulled them out of his flesh.  It didn't hurt, was only a little tugging, a little uncomfortable.  Maya was gentle and her fingers were warm.  Eskel wished it didn't feel so damn good to have those little fingers on his thigh.  It was making him crazy.

Didn't help that there was another storm raging.  Through the window, swirls of tiny snowflakes were so thick it was hard to see whether it was day or night.  There's no way he was getting out of there for a long time, if this kept up. He looked back at Maya, focused on her task.  There were 67 stitches total; he counted.  She was checking the wound as she went, making sure his flesh held.  He knew it was fine -- the stitches probably been in longer than they needed to be, but she checked anyway.  He didn't stop her.  

The longer it took, the longer she'd keep touching him.  He wanted to get away and he never wanted her to stop.  

He was a mess.

Nice thing was, when he got himself all stupid over her, then he wasn't thinking about everything else that had happened.  She was kneeling on the floor, her skirt flipped up over her knees.  Maya tucked her hair behind her ear, her head cocked, finger prodding at a long stretch of scar she'd freed from the stitches.  He smiled at her unconsciously and the scar on his face tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He should tell her.  He should tell somebody.  She was right about one thing, it was too long.

"Have you heard of the Law of Surprise?" he asked, almost surprising himself that he just came out and said it.

Maya's hands stilled on his leg.  She turned her face up to look at him.  She had these big grey-green eyes and her eyelashes were so pale, he could only see them at all because he was so close.  She blinked at him.

"Yes, that's how Witchers get children to train, isn't it?"

Eskel nodded.  "We used to, at least.  We haven't in years.  Its...complicated."  He trailed off, not sure how to go further.  He was always better at fighting than talking.  Maya didn't prod, just waited.  She looked back down and sliced through another stitch, giving him a chance to collect himself.

_Snick._ She pulled on the thread gently.

" _What you find at home, yet don't expect."_   He made a bitter noise.  "It's how I got the horse later.  Vesemir got a dog once.  I don't think I really expected it to be a child, but there it was.  Usually, when it happens, the Witcher would go back and collect the child when they were 6 or 7.  Young enough to train, old enough to not have to look after too closely."  He shook his head as she snipped the next stitch.  _Snick._   "We weren't going to take in new Witchers anymore, so I just never went back.  I kept hoping it would go away, even after I started having dreams about her."

Maya's fingers stopped and he heard her swallow with his sensitive hearing.  Her heart sped up a little.  She pulled on the thread.

"If I'd met her as a child, saw her as a daughter, maybe it would have been different.  But she was a woman before I ever laid eyes on her.  And fate or magic, it bound us together.  I felt a bond with her, even the first time we met, when she showed up on our doorstep."  He paused to catch his breath.  "The girl, her name was Deirdre.  She used to say that she only needed to think about me, and she'd know where I was.  It was the same for me."  His lungs felt hot.  "But she wasn't a child.  And I think...." He trailed off. How did he say it?

He thought that bond was love, even when he knew it wasn't.  He thought it was his destiny, this wild she-wolf princess.  He thought...

"I understand," Maya said.  Eskel let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.  Her fingers squeezed against his skin softly.  "Go on."

"We tried to help her.  There was a sorceress, she wanted to...dissect her, thought she was cursed.  And then there was an attack and Deirdre just lashed out wildly and instead of an enemy, she attacked me.  It was her sword that cut my face.  And I thought that would be enough to sever this bond, that when we sent her away, it would just be done."  He clenched his jaw.  "But it didn't.  My face healed, but I could still feel her.  Nothing changed."

Eskel shook his head.  "So fucking stupid.  She was just a girl and she grew up and got married and got old and died and I was still the same, still killing monsters up to my ass in filth and blood."  He made a strangled sound.  "She died and I felt it and the world just kept going and I kept being broken and ugly, just like she made me.  That was my fucking surprise.  That was my destiny, to be just wrecked and then thrown away?"  He could hear the venom in his own voice.

This had been poisoning him for so long.  

At some point while he was talking, Maya had removed the last of the stitches, but her hands were still resting over his newest scar, palms warm and soft.  She was looking at him again.  He expected pity, but it was something else in her eyes.  Something softer and kind.  She had been kneeling on the floor beside him as she worked but she got to her feet, putting her knee between his where he sat on the bed.  Her hand came up and traced the scars on his face.  

Just taking about Deirdre made them ache.  

Maya didn't say anything at first, just moved her fingers, from the edge of his forehead and over his cheekbone, down to the corner of his mouth and chin, then back up again.  He closed his eyes.  Her fingers made them ache just a little less, made them feel just a little less like a punishment.  

He felt her lips brush over his cheek, but this time, right over his scars.  Her hair smelled like rosemary.

"These aren't ugly," she said.  He felt her breath against his skin.  "And neither are you. The world is maybe.  It's hard and mean and horrible."  She pulled back and he opened his eyes to look at her.  "All these years, you've been killing monsters and protecting people, for coin and few thanks to show for it, yes?"

He nodded in reply.  There was a suspicious lump in his throat.  He tried to swallow it.

"And yet you kept doing it, not because you're a Witcher or a mutant or whatever slurs they throw at you.  You did it because it was the right thing to do.  To help people, even when they hated you."

"That's what Witchers have always done."  His voice was tight.

"But you didn't have to, don't you understand?"  She cupped his face between her hands.  "You could have walked away.  Witchers are skilled enough, strong enough, you could have just taken what you wanted; you could have taken your coin and gone somewhere where you never had to fight a monster again.  But you didn't.  You stayed."  She smiled.  "You're the one who killed the rotfiends in our cemetery.  You've helped so many people you didn't even remember."

Eskel snorted.  "Monsters killing monsters."

"No," she said. She kissed his scars gently again, this time close to the edge of his lips, her own cheek brushing against them.  "I'm sorry she hurt you.  But that wasn't your destiny, just a bit of magic.  You're still alive, Eskel.  Don't waste it thinking you missed your chance."

He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't.  There was a part of him, some carefully conditioned part that was threatening to jump up and throttle his feelings down.  He didn't want to let it.  He wanted to let the poison out, let it stop hurting him.  He wanted what she said to be the truth.

"I'm glad you fell in my door," she said, the corner of her mouth turned up just slightly.  Slowly, delicately, watching for the slightest flicker from him, she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.  Just pressure of her lips against his; they lingered for ten frantic heartbeats, then fifteen.  Her fingers flexed against his jaw.

He felt her start to pull away and he instinctively grabbed her shoulders so she couldn't move.  Her mouth curved into a smile against his lips.  He tilted her head and kissed her back, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth.  One arm slipped down around her lower back and he grabbed her, pulling her closer until she was on his lap.  She made a low, hungry whimper.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered, but kissed her again anyway.  

"This is a wonderful idea," she retorted.  One of her hands slid under the hem of his shirt and ran from his waist up over his ribs, skidding over his myriad of scars, each with a story he hadn't told her yet.  She closed her eyes and her whole body melted against him.  "This is the best idea."

Then her mouth was on his again, her lips soft and firm all at once, her tongue brushing across his, dancing over his scarred lip with reverence instead of disgust.  He felt his body respond to her, dizzy and light headed suddenly as his blood took a sharp detour elsewhere.  She wriggled her hips against him.

He almost asked her if she was sure, but she was grinding herself against him and he was pretty sure that was a yes. He wanted her so badly.  It was a terrible idea no matter what she said, but he didn't care.  

There was a gust of wind outside, hard enough that a draft slipped in through the window.  He felt goosebumps on her skin when his hands slid up under the hem of her dress.  His hands cupped under her bare ass, and it was just as soft and round and plump as it looked.  He pulled her against him hard.

With one swift movement, she grabbed her dress and whipped it off over her head.     She wasn't wearing anything underneath, all this pale pink round curvy skin suddenly at his mercy.  With a low growl, he sunk his teeth into the soft skin at the base of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark.

"Mm," she said, tilting her head away to give him better access.  She leaned against him, her breasts pressed up against his chest as he left a series of tiny marks along her collarbone. "Eskel?"

"Mhm?" 

"Too many clothes," she said.  She sounded breathless and it thrilled him.  "Too many."

He chuckled, the tight pain in his chest shifting into an entirely different emotion.  There was a fine, naked elf wrapped around him.  He'd be pretty damned stupid if he decided to mope instead of enjoying it.  He managed to get his shirt off, flinging it on to the floor.  He kissed her hard then, his mouth hungry for hers.  He scooted them back onto the bed until she was on top of him, straddling his hips, just the ridiculous thin linen pants she'd scrounged up for him between them.  

She was leaning down over him, her small but full breasts hanging down.  She kissed her way over his scars, along the edge of his jaw, pausing over the big pulsing artery in his neck for a moment.  Her hips were raised up just enough so he could only feel slight pressure against his entirely overwrought erection that was reminding him vividly that it had been entirely too long since he'd had a woman.   

Maya's hand reached down between them and untied the drawstring at his waist, fiddling with the fabric, trying to get it down out of the way.  Eskel raised his hips and his bare skin brushed against hers.  He thought he was going to lose his mind.  

Unable to contain himself, he grabbed her and flipped them over, yanking the offending fabric out of the way as they moved.  All he did was shift his hips and she was so warm, so aroused already. He slid inside of her.  He saw stars behind his eyelids.

He just barely resisted the urge to pound her into the bed when she arched her hips up and encouraged him to do it anyway.  There wasn't anything gentle about it, not like her little fingers on his face, or her sweet, compassionate words.  He couldn't even think, just feel.  He was like an animal, his hips driving his cock into her, the small bed slamming against the wall.

It had been too long and maybe Witchers had more stamina that normal men, maybe they were supposed to be sort of numb and disconnected, but he could already feel his orgasm threatening to wash over him.  She clung to him, her fingernails in his shoulders, one leg around his waist with her heel dug into the meat of his thigh.  She made tiny, inarticulate sounds.  Their skin made other sounds, flesh and damp.  His own breathing was too loud, his heartbeat raged in his ears.

"Oh by the gods, Eskel," her voice panted in his ear as she clung to him.  His name sounded so sweet from her lips.  "I'm-"  Coherent words failed her, and she moaned, nipping his earlobe between her teeth.  He felt her body react, grip at him.  The muscles inside her fluttered around him, pulled at him, pushed him over the edge.

He couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't even breathe.  He came, pleasure washing over him, his orgasm riding into the last waves of hers.  Eskel kissed her hard, pressing their damp skin together, holding her desperately against him.  He couldn't even remember a time when he felt so desired, so wanted, so entirely accepted.

He rolled them over so his weight wasn't on top of her and buried his face in her hair.  She was making small contented sounds, her breath still coming fast, her heart pattering in her chest against his.   Her hand moved up the back of his neck into his hair, nails lazily running over his scalp.  He relaxed against her, so comfortable and satisfied he thought maybe he could just die right there and that would be fine.

Instead, he drifted off to sleep to the sound of her heartbeat, happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been before.

 

***

 

Eskel woke alone in the bed and it was dark; night came early this time of year.  Snow still battered at the window, sounding heavy and damp.  The wind whistled.  The fire burned merry and hot, but she hadn't lit any candles, just the glow of the fire casting shadows across the room.  There was a scent of spicy broth in the air.  

Maya sat straddling her bench, her fingers busy at a task on the little table in front of her.  She was dressed in his shirt, the threadbare linen too big for her, yet just barely coming down to cover her round hips.  She rolled up the long sleeves to her elbows as she worked.  

She didn't know he was awake yet.  He watched.  She was folding pinches of something that smelled wonderful, meat, ginger, garlic, into pouches of dough.  She was smiling faintly as she made the dumplings and dropped them carefully into the cast iron pot over the fire.

The fire cast a warm gold glow on her skin, cast her hair into violet shadows.  The edges of her delicately pointed ears were a sliver of light in the purple mass of her hair.  She was so beautiful, but not like a sorceress was beautiful, flawless and carefully tended.  It was by accident, and maybe it was because he knew she was making those for him, hoping to please him, even though he would have been happy with anything, as long as it was warm and it was here with her.

As quietly as he could, he got out of the bed, not bothering to cover himself -- they were past that now.  He didn't want to startle her, so he let her hear his footsteps before he sat down on the bench behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

She made a happy little sound and leaned back against him.  He kissed the side of her neck.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Very."  It sounded like a laugh.  He nuzzled against her.  "What're you making?"

"Ginger dumplings," she said.  "They're very popular in Ellander."

He inhaled.  "In Novigrad too," he said.  "I love them."

"Good."  He could hear the smile in her voice.  Her fingers folded the little packet of dough closed and he considered distracting her.  

He ran his hand down her arm to her elbow, pulling her a little tighter against him.  "You look adorable in my shirt," he said into her ear, tucking his fingers into the soft skin inside her elbow.

"Do I now?" It wasn't really a question.  She shifted her hips back against him.  "I guess I do."

_Gods, was there a point when he wasn't going to be at least half hard just because she was near him?  Apparently not.  And why the fuck not, at this point?_

He rubbed his cock against the swell of her ass, and his face in her neck.  He could control his own heart rate usually, but he didn't try, loving the way his heart sped up when he touched her.  She chuckled.

"Now, now, let me finish these before you get all frisky back there,"  she laughed.  It was painful to wait, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and waited as patiently as he could.  One, two.  Four.  She dropped them into the pot and used her spoon to swing it back over the fire so she didn't have to move away.  Then she relaxed back against him again.  "There we are."

He grabbed her hips, dug his fingers in.  She didn't offer even a hint of resistance, so he lifted her up and angled her body backwards.  His cock brushed against her, warm, soft; she was already as aroused as he was.  He closed his eyes and she sank down around him.  His heart thudded in his chest.

It was a bit of an awkward position, but it didn't thwart her, she rocked her hips, rode him with long, slow strokes.  He reached around her, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing firmly, hoping his sword calloused fingers wouldn't hurt her.  The soft, plaintive moans that escaped her made it clear that pain was the last thing he was causing.  

She sighed, one hand gripping the front of the bench, the other on his knee.  "Oh Eskel," she said.  He loved that.  He loved it when she said his name.  "You feel incredible, I..." She trailed off, but he understood.  He couldn't talk at all.

This felt so good, and it wasn't just that she was incredible and hot and tight and her body was round and soft and warm and sexy.  Those were all true, but they were just the beginning.  The hot fire on his legs, even this stupid little worn bench under them, the smell of the food, the fireplace.  Everything was perfect.  

He felt the muscles in her thighs begin to tremble and he moved his fingers a little faster over the little bud of firm, hot flesh under his fingertips.  He felt her, powerful internal muscles gripping at him, pulling at him.  She was so responsive to his touch; it made him feel powerful, which wasn't something he really ever felt, not even with his sword in his hands.

She pushed down hard and groaned.  She fluttered around him, less powerfully than the last time, but her sounds were so sweet and it lingered, dragged on.  He contained himself to just let her ride out her orgasm, until she sagged down against him.  Only then did he move and it only took a few quick jerks of his hips before he joined her, coming inside of her again.  He wrapped his arms around her tight and held her against his chest.  

He never wanted to let go.

Gods, he loved to touch her.  Her loved to be here, be inside her and in her house and he couldn't have been happier.   _He loved her._ He suddenly tensed when the thought ran through his head.  He couldn't do that.  He...he couldn't.  

She turned her head to look at him, feeling the change in his posture.  "Are you all right?"

He nodded, trying to think of something to say.  "Yeah, I'm, yeah. Fine."

Maya put her hand over his forearms, still wrapped around her.  He was horrified at himself, but he couldn't let go either.  She didn't say anything else, just the pressure of her fingers on his arms seemed to say volumes anyway.  After a few moments, she picked up her discarded spoon again and used to swing the pot back toward her.  She stirred and steam rose, spicy and comforting.  

"I hope you're hungry." The smile was still in her voice, but it was a little guarded now.  It made his eyes burn.  

"I'm starving."  She turned around at his reply and he relaxed a little as a genuine smile spread across her face.  He thought himself ugly; he hadn't always been.  After Deirdre it was different; he was scarred in a lot of ways.  But when she looked at him, he forgot.  She looked at him like it made her inordinately pleased just to see him, like he was a nice sunset, instead of a nearly century old Witcher with a torn up face. 

She kissed him.  On his mouth, on the scar that bisected his chin.  She didn't say anything.  He tried to calm himself, use his Witcher skills to slow his still rapid heartbeat.  But he couldn't do it.  

_He loved her._   There wasn't a technique he knew to deal with that.


	3. Poisoned Apple

He could just imagine Lambert bitching as the winter dragged on.  It was cold, colder than it had been in years.  And even if somewhere, Lambert was under ten blankets, drunk off his ass and complaining, Eskel couldn't have been happier.  

The longer it was cold, the longer he could stay.

He still wasn't sure what the fuck he was going to do when spring came.  He really should go back to Kaer Morhen first, and then, like always head back out on to the Path.  There were always monsters to kill.  It's what he was made to do. 

But he was so comfortable here.  A part of him never wanted to leave.  S _everal parts of him, in fact._

Sometimes, he almost expected to start getting restless.  He usually did by this point in the winter.  Kaer Morhen was big, but it would start to feel small and claustrophobic.  Lambert might be the one bitching, but he'd be the one training until everything hurt and he was exhausted.  Vesemir used to just shake his head and mutter something about being young.

Not that anyone ought to call Eskel young, but compared to Vesemir....

_Dead._   After all those centuries, after all those fights and other Witchers he outlived, to just be snuffed out by one of those fucking Red Rider bastards....the grief still burned in his chest.  

It was easier to not think about it when Maya was here, puttering around, shaking her ass at him when he got sulky.  But she was gone, one of the neighbors having dug his way through the snow to fetch her.  His wife was having a baby, and it wasn't going well.  

Eskel would have gone with her, if just to make sure she was safe, but the farmer recoiled when he saw him.

He forgot when he was with Maya.  She looked at him, touched his face and she liked it, but the farmer reminded him.  He was tall, big, intimidating.  He'd be that no matter what, whether his swords were strapped to his back or not.  But he also had eyes like a lynx and his face was disfigured.  

It had been so nice to forget about that for a while.

So she was gone, left him here alone.  He'd puttered out to the stable, watched Scorpion nuzzle Maya's grey mare, felt the foal kicking in the mare's distended belly. He wasn't sure the stallion would even go with him when it was time to leave.

That horse was clearly in love.  He wasn't the only one.

Now he'd kicked off his boots again and was sitting by the fire.  He had one of Maya's books opened in his lap, but he couldn't concentrate on it.  It was interesting, traditional herbalism, different than what he knew and he wondered if he could use it to augment his potions.  But he couldn't focus.

Eskel just wanted her to come home so he could bury his face in her neck and feel whole for a little while. There was so little time left, even if everything outside was still white.  He didn't want to waste any of it.

_Home._   It really did feel like home.

He must have drifted off, daydreaming about how he would get her into the bed when she got back and how he'd keep her in there until neither of them could walk when the door opened and closed, sending a mist of damp air into the room. 

He turned around just as Maya threw her cloak to the floor.  Her dress was covered in blood.  Her hands were stained; there were even spatters on her face.  She looked like he did sometimes, after a particularly brutal fight.  Her face was white.

"What happened?" he asked, getting out of the chair and coming towards her.  By now, his thigh was good as new and he moved easy.

"They died."  Maya swallowed.  "Both of them.  There was nothing I could do."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said.  He was more comfortable with her now.  It was easier to talk to her, like he talked to his brothers.  He took her hand, blood didn't bother him.  

"Snow's melting too," she said, looking at the hand he wasn't holding, rubbing her thumb against her fingers, the sticky blood making her skin catch.  "Hopefully we can both leave before they get the Witch Hunters."  She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

Eskel was confused, he furrowed his brow.  "For what?"

"They always want you around when you can help.  You know, when I could help fevers and injuries.  Just like when the ealderman hired you to clear out the cemetery.  But if something goes wrong, someone dies even if it's not my fault?  The first thing they do is start screaming witch and call the hunters."  She made a face.  "If the weather holds, you can leave in a few days and get out of here before they come after me."  She shrugged.  "Maybe I'll get lucky and Storm will be able to manage even with the foal in her belly, and we can get out before they come.  If not?"  She shook her head.  "I've been running from them a long time.  I guess they were bound to catch up with me eventually."

Eskel was flabbergasted and not a little confused.  What the hell would Witch Hunters want with an herbalist? Besides, did she actually think he'd just walk out and let those bastards come in here and hurt her?  She didn't know him very well, after all.

"I'm not just going to let that happen."

Maya looked away from him, but didn't pull her hand away.  "Aren't Witchers supposed to be neutral?"

He laughed.  "That's a good story.  It's bullshit too.  You can't be neutral.  No one is ever neutral about anything."

"I can't drag you into this," she said.  She squeezed his hand and looked up at him.  Her eyes were red.  "But it was wonderful while it lasted."

Eskel felt his lips thin, he shook his head.  "No, I'm not letting this happen."

She dropped his hand and stepped closer to the fireplace, wrapping her arms around herself. Her back was to him.

"I don't know what you think you can do.  I'll just go; I've managed before.  I can do it again." 

"Bullshit." Eskel grabbed her shoulder.  "I don't know why they're hunting you. Doesn't matter.  As soon as the weather breaks, we're leaving together. All of us, horses-to-be included."  He turned her around to face him.  Until now, he'd been content to just let her have her way.  Hell, none of this would have happened otherwise.  But if there were Witch Hunters coming, he was going to stop them.  "And if they get here first, I'll kill them."

"Eskel."  She said his name with frustration and with relief.  He'd spent enough time with her now that he felt like he understood her a little.  She'd been on her own for a long time.  At least he always had the others; even now he knew Geralt or Lambert would go through the fires of hell for him.

She didn't have anyone, not until he fell into her door.  She wasn't getting rid of him this easily.  Eskel usually didn't involve himself.  But he was fucking damned if he would walk away this time.

He grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her hard.  

"You saved my life," he said, "In more ways than one.  It's time I returned the favor."

She looked like she might protest, but then reconsidered.  "Where could we go?"

He smiled on the unscarred side of his mouth.  "To Kaer Morhen.  Fucking Geralt's been bringing women there for decades.  My turn."

 

***

 

It took a while, but he convinced her to let him help her wash the blood off. She heated the water over the fire and he needled her until she told him what happened.  

The baby was too early, the mother was too young.  Something had shifted, twisted inside of her and the baby was already gone, dead inside her mother before Maya even got there.  She tried to ease the birthing, save the mother but she fought her, even as the baby was poisoning her.  

The farmer had begged her to try.  Anything to save his young wife, so she'd done the only thing she could.  She tried to cut the baby out.  But it was far too late.  The baby had been dead so long and the mother was septic.  Not even magic could have spared her.  All Maya could do was sew her up and give her something to ease the pain and her passing.

The farmer wailed.  He tore at himself, punched a hole through the wall.  And then came the accusations, the threats.  Maya fled, but she knew it was only a matter of time before his words fell of the wrong ears.

These days, no one was safe, not even with Radovid dead and the war winding down.  They fucking were everywhere, self righteous bastards.  Eskel just wished they fought actual evil, not people just trying to survive.  

Sure, there were bastard mages and sorceresses were fucking dangerous, but what was worse? Magic or Ghouls or the Catriona?  _Fuck, their priorities sucked._

He didn't want to think about it.  He just wanted to get Maya out of those bloody rags so she could stop thinking about it too.  They either would come or they wouldn't.  Either way, as soon as the snow started to melt, he was taking her, and they were leaving.

He undressed her as she just stood there like a ragdoll.  She was just limp.  He was actually afraid to just put her in the water, that she'd just flop down and drown when he wasn't looking. So he undressed himself and dragged her in with him, letting her used him as a backrest.  

His arms held her up.  Her face lay quietly against his chest, eyes closed.  The water was warm, soothing even and under different circumstances, it would have been impossible to keep his hands off her.  But she seemed so sad, defeated.  He just held her tightly.  His chest ached inside.  

"Tell me a story," she said softly.  He almost couldn't hear her. 

"About what?"

"I don't care; I just want it to have a happy ending."

He made a noise, too bitter to be a laugh.  "Don't know many of those."  He considered for a moment.  As much as it irritated him, the only happy ending he knew was in White Orchard, where a witcher and a sorceress were playing house after beating the crap out of each other for two decades.

But they were happy, even if he didn't trust Yen further than he could throw her.  He actually had the ballad memorized.  Stupid witcher memory.

"I can't believe I'm going to do do this; fucking poetry."

Maya actually laughed, if a bit sadly.  He'd do it, just to make sure she did that again.  He wouldn't sing though.  No one wanted that.

 

" _These scars long have yearned for your tender caress._  
_To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own._  
_Rend my heart open, then your love profess._  
_A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone._

 

_The wolf I will follow into the storm._  
_To find your heart, its passion displaced._  
_By ire ever growing, hardening into stone._  
_Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace._

 

_I know not if fate would have us live as one._  
_Or if by love’s blind chance we’ve been bound._  
_The wish I whispered, when it all began._  
_Did it forge a love you might never have found?_

 

_You flee my dream come the morning._  
_Your scent – berries tart, lilac sweet._  
_To dream of raven locks entwisted stormy._  
_Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep."_

 

She was quiet for a while and he felt like an idiot.  But then she nuzzled her face against him.

"Was it really like that?"

Eskel shrugged.  "Not really.  They fight all the time, even now.  But I guess it makes them happy anyway."

"It just sounds so romantic," she said.  "I've heard it before, but I liked it better when you did it."

"I don't know," he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.  "I like this better."

Maya turned her face up to look at him. He tilted her back so he could kiss her gently.  He didn't really have any experience with this.  But he knew that he wanted to try to be happy too.  He liked her, not like that thing Geralt and Yen had.  They respected each other, sure, and loved and lusted and all that, but sometimes, they couldn't stand each other.

That seemed like a pain in the ass.  

But he  _liked_  Maya. He wanted to be around her.  It was fucking crazy and a terrible idea but he was fucked if he wasn't going to hang on to it as long as he could anyway.  If he'd learned anything from Vesemir's death, it was that he wasn't immortal, no matter how many years passed.

Witchers didn't die in their beds.  

"Much better," he repeated and kissed her again before tucking her back under his chin. 

They soaked in the water until it went cold and Maya fell asleep.  Eskel carried her across the room and tucked her into the bed, feeding the fire until it was almost too hot before he crawled under the covers with her.  He curled himself around her and she made a contented little noise in her sleep. 


	4. Lachrymation

He woke in the dead of the night, the sky black through the window, decorated with frost. The wind blew hard. But it was her hands that roused him, small and warm on his face.

Eskel opened his eyes, witcher sight quickly adjusting to the dark. The fire had burned to almost nothing, but there was enough of a glow of him to see. She'd turned towards him, still pressed tightly against his chest, her eyes trying to see him in the darkness. Her fingers found his scars by touch, fingertips dancing over the puckered skin with reverence. He would never understand her, understand how she could look at him and want him almost because of the damage instead of in spite of it.

She saw his eyes open; he knew they glittered in the dark like a cat's. Her expression changed, softened, the corners of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

"Eskel." She said his name as she always did, with affection and with desire. He clutched at her when she stretched up to kiss him, her little warm tongue flicking over the scars on his mouth. The length of her body against his was almost too hot.

He let her roll him on to his back willingly, one round white thigh draped over him. She was frantic, hands and her mouth everywhere all at once. She rubbed herself against him until he was fully hard and slid him inside of her without a word. She paused, arching her back, her head back and her mouth open as she sat astride him. He didn't even breathe, just watched her in silence.

Maya fell forward against his chest, her hair falling over her shoulder and brushing his face. She dragged her lips over the stubble along the ridge of his jaw, down his throat, resting against his neck as her hips started to move. Neither of them made a sound; just the wind, the fading crackles from the fireplace, ragged and desperate breathing.

Eskel buried his hands in her hair, lifted her face from his neck so her could look at her. If he'd seen her on a street in a city or a village, he might only have noted her bright hair or her pointed ears. He might even have noticed that she was too plump and curvy to be a full blooded elf, but he doubted he would have given her another glance. There were a lot of lovely women in the world. He'd seen and even bedded some of the most beautiful creatures, sorceresses made impossibly attractive with glamor, even a succubus who's entire existence depended on it.

But Maya was more than that, more than just lovely soft flesh under his fingers. He pulled her down to him to kiss her, try to show her what he wasn't built to be able to say. His life was hard, always been hard, and he wasn't meant for soft words and poetry. But she made him want it. She made him want to just stay here, right here with his cock inside her and her lips on his and her heart beating frantically against his chest. He wanted to say all the right things but he didn't know the right words.

Her hips circled against his, seeking pressure, friction. He arched up to meet her, gauging his movement with her reactions; tiny whimpers, gasps. She seemed loathe to pull away even enough to ride him properly, just tiny, short movements so she could clutch at him again. She pressed down hard as he pushed up. She made a sound almost like a sob, exquisitely heartbreaking.

She raised her head, just enough to look at him and even if all she could see was the embers of the fire reflected in his gold eyes, he could see her in perfect detail. Her fair eyebrows were drawn together, palest freckles, nearly transparent eyelashes. Her eyes glittered with tears.

The words just spilled out, unbidden, awkward, painfully honest. "I love you." His voice sounded gruff, thick even to his own ears.

Her mouth trembled. "You shouldn't."

"Too late." Eskel smiled despite himself. He wanted her to say it. He could feel it. He needed to hear it.

"Oh gods," she whimpered. "I didn't mean to. I thought...." Her voice caught. She kissed him once, twice. "I thought I'd be able to just...this wasn't supposed to happen."

He held her against him, his cock still hard and wanting, but stilled, waiting. His heartbeat was too fast. He couldn't control it.

"I shouldn't," she whispered, her lips brushing his scarred, beloved cheek. "But I do. I love you, so much. Too much. I'm sorry."

She started to move again. Hard, fast. She pulled back swiftly, flipping her hair back over her head, riding him hard until he felt her, felt himself come undone. His fingers dug into the soft skin on her hips as he came, sitting up to grab her and hold her tightly against him.

He didn't know why she was sorry, but his heart ached at the pain in her voice.

He said _I love you_ a thousand more times into her neck as she cleaved to him, sobbing, tears running down her face on to his.

In a fairytale, her tears would have healed his scars, changed him, made him a prince. But he was still ragged and broken and old, but his scars stopped aching, even if it was only for now.


	5. Hunter and Hunted

It ate at him, not knowing.

There didn't seem to be any real reason why the Witch Hunters would be after her.  Maybe alchemy, since there was some overlap between what she did and that; she had a book or two that might have gotten someone's attention but it was hardly worth chasing her for.  There were enough mages and true alchemists to keep those bastards busy for a century.  Why would they waste time on someone like her?

Eskel tried not to fixate on it, but he was like that.  On the outside, he was always calm, focused, but his brain was forever running things over and over, trying to suss out the facts from the fiction.  It's why he was good at what he did.  

But there was plenty to distract him, trying to pack up Maya's little life to fit in a few saddlebags.  She was not happy about leaving her books behind, but he plied her with stories of the library at Kaer Morhen.  Hell, he'd been reading those books for decades and had hardly made a dent.  

She was packing her more rare ingredients and some of the most important ones while he borrowed from her stock to brew potions of his own.  If the hunters got there before they could leave, he was determined to be ready for them.

They both worked quietly and it made him content, this little domestic scene they made.  He always liked it when he could be useful; practical things always made sense.  Despite this threat hanging over them, he was still more content than he had any right to be.  

"Eskel?" The sounds of her puttering didn't stop when she called him.

"Mhm?"

"Have you ever hunted a monster you didn't kill?"

He turned away from his potion to look at her.  She still had her back to him, her hair swaying against her back as she moved, packing little jars and bags of ingredients into the saddlebag.  

"Yeah." he answered, not entirely sure why she was asking.  "Sure.  We only kill monsters that need killing.  Sometimes there are other ways."

She made a little questioning sound.  "Like when?"

He chuckled.  The best story for this was nice and dirty.  She'd probably love it; she was like that.  "I got a contract on a succubus.  Locals said she killed a man."  He paused, seeing if she'd comment, but when she didn't he continued.  "But that's not really like them.  I mean, doesn't do them any good to kill.  They just want sex, not murder."

"So they really are like the stories say?"

"Usually."  He shrugged.  "Sometimes they go bad, but we don't hear about them too often.  But I took the contract.  There was good coin in it, and they didn't say  _kill_  just  _stop_  which is a nice little loophole."

She laughed, quietly.  It was halfhearted.

"I searched around town, looked at the body.  The man had been strangled and that wasn't really the sort of thing you see with a succubus.  Usually they snap necks, break bones."  He shook his head, stirring in the next ingredient into his potion.  "They're really strong if you piss 'em off.  So I tracked her down to some ruins outside of town.  She had quite the little set up.  She was also really clear about not having killed anyone.  She didn't make any move to attack me.  She used her other weapons instead."

Her almost heard Maya's expression; a little intake of breath.  "Oh really?"

He laughed, looked over his shoulder to find her looking at him incredulously.  "Yeah, it was fun."

"You didn't."

"I did." Maya made a face and Eskel grinned at her.  "You jealous?"

She pursed her lips.  "Of course not."  Then she shook her head.  "Maybe."

That made him feel warm.  Very warm.  "It was a long time ago.  And you did ask."

Maya sighed.  "Go on."

"Anyway, I spent some time with her...you know. She wasn't the violent type.  I knew she hadn't done anything. Afterwards, I convinced her to move on, find a new place to get what she wanted." He shrugged again with one shoulder.  "And she went."

"I thought Witchers were supposed to kill all the monsters, make the world safe."

"Killing her wouldn't have made anyone safer," he said.  "We kill harmful monsters.  We aren't exterminators.  We don't just go around killing stuff for no reason.  There's a lot of things out there people consider monsters; godlings, dryads, rusalkas.  There's a brothel run by vampires in Vizima.  They don't kill and only feed on the willing.  All of them, they only hurt people when they're attacked.  The world isn't better without them.  It's just less."

Maya was watching him very carefully now, her face neutral.  

"What?"

"Nothing."  She shook her head just enough so it ruffled her hair.  "I don't know.  It's nice to know."

Eskel smiled at her.  They went back to their tasks; the potion was almost finished.  Something special for any Witcher Hunter who got some fucking funny idea.  It bubbled a few times and changed color and he took it off the heat, pouring it into a bottle and stoppering it where the color swirled and shifted a few times before settling at a shade of pale blue.

"Did I ever tell you about Regis?" he asked, finding the sudden urge to keep talking.  He liked talking to her.  She was a good listener.

"No, who's that?"

"Never met him myself, but he was a friend of Geralt's; one of Geralt's favorite stories when he's drunk.   Turned out he was a vampire.  High vampire, apparently old enough and powerful enough that he could hide what he was.  Took Geralt forever to figure it out.  Apparently he wanted to kill him at first, you know, vampire.  But in the end, he was a friend."  He grunted.  "When Geralt told me about him, I thought he was fucking crazy.  It's one thing to sleep with some bruxa in a brothel but another to let this guy just keep walking around.  I probably would have killed him."  Maya was silent at his admission.  "But if he'd given in and killed him?  Fuck, things would be pretty screwed up.  You never know what part someone's gonna play."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, try to," he said.  He tucked his potion into a bag.  "When I was young, I liked things to be black and white.  Simple.  Monsters were bad and humans were good. But it doesn't seem to work that way."

She didn't say anything.  He wondered what she was thinking.  Before he could ask, he felt her arms curl around him from behind, her cheek pressed against his.  He put his hand on her forearm and closed his eyes.  It felt good to have someone touch him, just because they wanted to.

"What's this for?" Eskel asked and Maya nuzzled her face against his.

"Just for being you," she said.  "For being just what I needed."  She made a sad laugh.  "And here I thought I was saving you."

"You did."  He turned his face and kissed her gently before maneuvering her around into his lap.  She kissed him back, her fingers in his hair.  She made a sweet little noise into his mouth.

Eskel was happy.  His scars didn't hurt at all.

 

***

 

The sound snuck up on him.  The subtle  _drip drip_  of water where snow began to melt off the roof and patter on to the ground below wasn't loud, but he wasn't sure how long it had been going on before he noticed.  The winter was finally ending.

It was thinking about it anyway.  There was always the chance there would be another freak storm after the first thaw, but they couldn't risk waiting it out.  If there was enough melt that the horses could come out and paw through the snow for the first shoots of winter grass poking through the slush, the Hunters could already be moving.

It felt almost foreign to put on his armored jacket, the silver spikes cold, the leather stiff.  They made him new trousers together; she cut, he stitched.  They fit well, but were stiff in their newness.  Maya went into the village to see if she could hear anything, but all the doors were closed.  No one would speak to her.  

They were coming.

They loaded up Scorpion with the saddlebags and haltered Storm, but her belly was already too big for anything more than a blanket.  What had it been, four months only?  It felt like a lifetime.  Eskel knew it was hard for her; he watched her stare at the closed door of the house, one hand tangled in her mare's mane.

"Eight years," she said.  "I lived here for eight years."

"Not so long."

"Long for me."  

Eskel put his hand on her neck, pressed his face against her hair for a minute.  "I'll miss it too, but I'd miss you more.  Come on."

She nodded and complied, letting him take her hand and lead her away.  He didn't know if taking her to Kaer Morhen was the right answer.  He couldn't imagine she'd be happy there for very long.  But it was as good a place to start as any other.  Once they were safe and the Hunters were off her trail?  They could worry about it then.  

For now, forward.  He pointed them towards the path, towards trails that were nearly impossible to see unless you knew where they were, unless you had Witcher's senses, sensitive and finely tuned.  He led them forward but listened behind for footsteps, hooves, steel.

Only the sound of dripping water followed.

 

***

 

They made it far enough that even Eskel couldn't smell the village anymore when he heard the first hoofbeats.  Soft ones, slow.  Their pursuers were walking their horses, couldn't be sure how many.  The ground was too soft to differentiate from this far away, but there was more than one.  A small hunting party at least, doggedly on their heels.  With the melting snow and mud, there was no way to hide their tracks and there was too much snow between the trees to even consider leaving the road.

He didn't say anything.  No point in worrying her.

They walked for another hour before the footsteps started to close on them.  No more hooves.  They left their horses behind.  Trying to be quiet.  They didn't know he was with her.  There were five, maybe six?

"Take the horses," he said, just loud enough for Maya to hear.  She seemed to read his face, her already big eyes as wide as saucers.  "Get them off the road."

"Shit," she muttered.  "Are they coming?"

Eskel nodded and pulled his steel sword slowly so the metal was silent against the leather.

Maya slipped behind him, leading the horses until they were in the trees.  Eskel changed his focus, shifted it forward and blocked her out.  He couldn't let himself get distracted.  Fighting men was always harder than fighting monsters.  Monsters that needed killing were most often hardly more than animals, creatures of instinct.  You just had to know them.   Men were different.  Men have motivations that are impossible to predict.

They came around the corner and he saw them first, all decked out in Witch Hunter armor, Church of the Eternal fucking Flame.  Eskel darted off the road, concealing himself behind the trunk of a tree.  He waited.  He was patient, very patient.

Boots crunched on half melted snow.  Someone coughed.  A sniffle.  

Six pairs of feet.   _That was a lot of steel, even for him._

He waited.  The first man appeared in his peripheral vision and he spun out of hiding, steel sword flashing.  The tip of his sword paused at the throat of the first pursuer.  He wanted to just kill them, but questions first.  Had to be sure.  He wasn't a murderer.

"Why are you following us?"  

A slow smile slide across the pockmarked face.  He raised a hand, signalling the men behind him to still.  Their hands were on their weapons, but they stayed sheathed.  The man chuckled darkly.  "Witcher."  His voice was too amused for a man with a sword at his throat.  "Afraid we'll take your contract?"

Eskel scowled.  "What contract?"

The man raised an eyebrow.  He grinned and it was ugly.  His teeth were crooked and his breath stank. He got a shit-eating self-righteous look on his face.  It took everything Eskel had not to stick the sword into his face. "You don't know."  When Eskel didn't reply, slowly the man's chuckle turned to a laugh, a laugh that made the hair on his neck stand up.  "Well, you're a lost cause.  Here I thought you might help us.  Some witcher you are."

Eskel pushed the point of the blade harder against the man's throat, almost hard enough to draw blood.  

"Why are you following us?" He asked again.  He flicked his wrist just enough so the point of the blade scored the man's neck, a narrow line of blood welling up along the scratch.

"Not following you Witcher," the man said and spat on the ground.  "But now you're in our way."  

He heard the crossbow bolt click into place a moment too late.  The bolt fired at him, but he couldn't deflect it in time, the long wooden shaft burying itself into the meat of his shoulder before he could react.  The man kicked him in the chest, almost knocking him down.  

Eskel took his head off before he could pull his sword.  

He spun out of the way, ducking as a blackjack swung at his head.  His sword flashed, hitting the next attacker  low on his thigh; the bastard toppled to the ground.  Eskel dodged the next bolt, hearing the whistle in the air and spun to the right to put his sword through a skinny one's chest.  

_One, two, three._

A big oaf of a man in a long coat came charging at him with a greatsword.  Eskel's blade swept out, slicing his attacker across the midsection as he crouched down, dancing out of the way.  He pivoted and rose as the man made a gurgling shout and fell.  Another with a mace was slow to react, stunned at first, but then he turned tail and fled in the other direction.  

_Four, five._

Just one left.  The crossbow.

"Look out!" Maya's voice tore out through the trees but he couldn't move in time.  The wooden handle of the crossbow hit him in the back of the head.  He saw stars.  He tried to raise his sword but his hand felt limp.  The world tilted.  He struggled to make his eyes focus.  

"Fuck," he heard himself try to shout, but his voice was strangled.  "Maya!"

He saw the flash of steel, heard it as the crossbow hit the ground and the man pulled his sword, advancing on him.  Then Maya was there, almost like she appeared out of thin air.  One moment nothing and then she was there, her bright hair whipping around her face.  Her hand grabbed the man's scalp, fingernails like claws, clutching his hair in her fist, digging rivulets into his skin.  Blood ran down his face.  Eskel could see the whites of his eyes.

_Claws? Wait how?_

Maya yanked the Witch Hunter's head to the side and tore out his throat with her teeth.


	6. Silver

Eskel's instincts kicked in before he could stop to think.

He dropped the steel sword and pulled his silver blade instinctively as Maya dragged his attacker to the ground.   The man gurgled wetly, blood gushing out of his mouth and then went silent.  Maya pulled away from him, spitting blood on the ground, heaving and gagging.  She put her hand over her mouth and looked up at Eskel, on her knees in the muddy snow next to the body.  Her skin was sickly pale, her hands, her face, the entire front of her dress splattered with bright red arterial blood.

She looked up just as Eskel stumbled forward, his ears still ringing from the impact of the crossbow on his skull.  He pointed the sword at her.  They looked at each other in silence.  He took a breath, willed his wits to focus.  He sneered at her, anger suddenly coursing through him.  He gestured at her with the blade.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice low.

Maya closed her eyes and slowly dropped her hand from her face, smearing the blood across her chin.  Her hand fell boneless onto her knees, her mouth steadfastly closed.  She took a long slow breath before opening her eyes again.

Eskel jerked the sword at her again pointedly.

Maya opened her mouth.  Long, needle sharp fangs overlaid her teeth, two on the top, two on the bottom.  Her mouth was filthy with blood.

Eskel didn't move.  The silver sword flashed, glittered as his hand trembled almost imperceptibly.

"Where the fuck were you keeping those?"

_How many times had he kissed her?_ _Fuck, she had his cock in her mouth more than once.  He thought he might have noticed those fucking things raking down his dick._

"I pulled them out," she said.  Her voice sounded different.  He wasn't sure if it was the extra teeth, or the blood in her mouth, but he immediately hated it.  "Years ago.  Put silver in the sockets, so they wouldn't grow back."

His forehead creased.  "That hurt?"

"Of course it did," she said.  She wiped the back of her hand over her face, smearing blood along the curve of her cheek.  "Every day."

"When were you planning on telling me?"  

She looked away.  "How could I?"

Eskel felt like his chest was going to crack open.  He stuffed it down, focused on the familiar bite of of the leather grip in his hand, his finger looped over the crossbar to stabilize the blade.  He pressed his finger hard against the silver.

"I don't know, how about, hey, by the way, I'm a fucking blood-sucking horror?" He lashed out.  He wanted to hurt her.  

_He loved her and she fucking lied to him. Was any of it not a lie?_

"Right, tell the  _Witcher_  who stumbled into my door half dead that I'm something he should kill?" She spat blood at his feet.  Her expression crumpled.  She struggled to stand, her dress caked in mud and blood, damply clinging to her legs.  "It doesn't matter now."  She moved toward him slowly with shuffling steps until the tip of his sword was pressed between her breasts.

Eskel didn't flinch.  He focused.  He could hear her heart beating.

"What are you waiting for?"  

He couldn't move.  He should just do it. She killed that man right in front of him.

_She killed that man to save him._

Eskel just stared at her.

"Just do it."  She made a face and spit blood on the ground again. "Please."

"Not gonna swallow it?" He hardly recognized his own voice. 

She made a disgusted face.  "I haven't...." She made a strangled sound.  "Probably since before you were born."

He grunted.  "I'm 104."

She barked a pained laugh. "Definitely before you were born."

Eskel was at a loss.  If she'd just fight back, show her teeth, threaten him, he could just dispatch her and be done with it.  But she just stood there, just waiting, staring at him.  

He couldn't do it.

He turned his back to her.  He could hear Vesemir screaming in his head.   _Never turn your back on a monster.  Never._  But Vesemir was fucking  _dead._  What good did that advice do him in the end?

He sheathed his sword and picked up his steel from the ground.  He wiped the blade along the leather of his pants, grime, mud and blood leaving a long smear on the dark leather.  He sheathed the steel beside the silver.

He was still listening.  He couldn't turn that off.  She didn't move.  She didn't move until he whistled for Scorpion and the stallion trotted out of the trees, his mare behind him.  Eskel unbuckled the saddlebags and let them drop into the stained snow.  

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded ragged, desperate. 

Without a word, he swung up on Scorpion's back and nudged him forward.  The horse balked at him.

"Please, you can't just leave me here, not alive, you can't.. _.Eskel_." He paused when she said his name.

_Gods, how he used to love that._

Once, that was the best sound he'd ever heard.  It made his head hurt.  He was so stupid.  He kicked at Scorpion.  The horse took a few hesitant steps forward.  Even though the stupid thing was supposed to be terrified of vampires, he didn't want leave, flicking his head back to look at his mare, ears twitching in annoyance.

"Go, you fucking nag," he snapped at him.  

" _Eskel_ ," she said it again insistently.  "Please.  They'll be back.  If someone is going to do this, if someone is going to stick a sword in me and burn me to dust, I'd rather it was you."

He kicked Scorpion hard and this time he obeyed.  He forced them into a gallop, even though the ground was soggy and half frozen and treacherous. He didn't look back.

 

***

 

He didn't get far.  

Scorpion was fighting him every step and eventually he gave up, letting him paw at the ground instead of turning an ankle or breaking his leg.  He just sat there, staring off into the distance.  He couldn't see Kaer Morhen from here, but he knew where it was.  

He didn't want to go.

He turned Scorpion's head back the way they came and the horse surged forward, wanting to go back.  

_What the fuck was he doing?_

She was a vampire, bruxa probably.  He'd fucked one before, but he knew then, his medallion shivered and he was on guard the whole time.  He knew what they were.  Just like the succubus.  She was fun and it was novel but it wasn't personal; she was just trying to survive.  He wasn't crazy.  He got that.

Maya looked at him right in the eyes and told him she loved him but never told him what she was.  Did vampires even do that, did they even feel love?

_Fuck, Witchers weren't supposed to either._

If you listened to the stories, Witchers were inhuman monsters too, emotionless, brutal, killing machines.  Stick some gold in one end and get death out the other side.

He knew that wasn't true.  When there used to be more of them, they were just as varied as anyone else.  Some were emotional, some were broken and most were somewhere in between.  He used to sneer at Geralt and all his entanglements, even when it made him feel a little envious at the same time. But he just pushed that down, focused elsewhere and did his damn job.

How many of them were there left these days?  What was the point?  The monsters...there had always been more of them; there were always going to be more. Witchers were a dying breed.

Vesemir was dead.  Geralt and Lambert had run off with sorceresses, finally managing to eke something like happiness out of this brutal life.  

He didn't blame them but he didn't think he needed it.  Eskel wasn't that sort of man.  He was fine, just existing, just being just... _bullshit_.

Did it even matter what she was?  Shouldn't it matter what she did instead?  How many times did she have her mouth of his body? How many opportunities did she have to take his blood, hell, take his life?  Never once did she do anything but help him and take care of him.  Did it matter at all?

He let Scorpion have his head and he immediately headed back towards his mare.  

Fucking horse was smarter than he was.


	7. White Myrtle

Eskel found the corpses in the road, but no sign of Maya except her mare pawing absently at a trampled patch of greenery exposed in the battle.  The saddlebags lay where he dropped them, though one had been opened and rummaged through, ingredients strewn out.  A glass jar filled with white myrtle petals lay on its side in the mud.

He remembered her rolling the jar between her hands as she packed, debating.

_"These are fairly common," Maya said.  "But they are special.  People say they are sacred to Melitele.  The flower of love."_

He told her to make room for them.  He was an idiot.

He found her tracks easily enough, small female footprints leading off into the trees.  They rambled almost aimlessly, stopping occasionally where more red tinged spit would litter the ground.  She was bound and determined not to swallow the blood, wasn't she?

He didn't know what it meant, not really, but it didn't matter.  Nothing did except finding her.

The trees thinned out, the trunks getting thicker as their quantity decreased.  Here, the snow was still icy and crisp.  The air was cold and he could see his breath, billowing out like a mist from between his lips.  Eskel knew how to move silently, so he stepped carefully, trying to avoid the crunch of snow under his boots.  He didn't want to spook her.

If someone had told him he'd be sneaking up on a vampire because he wanted to see her, not kill her, he would have told them they were insane.  A lot of things were different now.  That didn't mean everything was a horror, did it?

He spotted her hair first, a bright swatch of sunset orange against the white snow, the grey trees.  Her pale dress was blood stained and dark, her winter cloak discarded on the ground.   Maya sat on a fallen log, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hand.  There was a puddle of blood on the ground between her feet, an ingredient jar propped up against her foot.  One hand was clutched into a white knuckled fist.

Eskel put his hand against a nearby tree trunk, trying to get enough air.  She heard him shift and her head whipped up.  She'd scrubbed her face clean with snow, her cheeks raw and pink.  But there was new, red blood on her lips.  There was no one else here.  The blood had to be hers.

Her eyes were wild when she looked at him, half panicked and half sad.  She trembled; her instincts must have been telling her to run or to fight but she didn't move.

"You change your mind?" she asked.  Her voice hurt him, soft and choked.  "Going to give me a mercy killing before the Hunters catch up with me?"

Eskel pulled his silver sword and walked towards her, the metal ringing as it pulled free of the scabbard.  Maya's lip trembled.  

"The one consolation I have, is that its you," she said as he stalked closer.  "I'm not afraid to die and I'm glad that you'll be the last thing I see, even if you don't believe me."

He was only a few steps from her now.  She didn't flinch, just looked up at him with wide eyes.  He still said nothing.

"I didn't lie to you Eskel," she said.  She made almost no sound.  It was just loud enough for him to hear.  "I love you."

His silver sword clattered to the ground.  Eskel fell to his knees in front of her, his legs sinking into the bloody snow.  He didn't care.  He grabbed her face, tucked his forehead against hers.  He still couldn't talk. 

_What could he say?_  He didn't know where to begin, or what to feel.  He just knew he didn't want to kill her, he didn't want anything except to be with her, to make sure she was safe from hunters and fuck all whatever that might come after her.

If that meant he was a shitty Witcher, so be it.

He felt her hand, cold as ice, come up and touch the side of his face, tentative little fingers along the scars.  She traced them, following the lines along the plane of his face and spoke when he couldn't.  

"A long time ago, a Witcher hunted my family," she began.  Eskel started to pull away but her fingers, now just the same soft fingers they'd always been instead of the claws he saw her wield against his attacker, flexed against his jaw and he stilled, his forehead still against hers.  He could smell her breath, coppery and cold.  "We evaded him for a while, but eventually he caught up to us.  He...killed them.  I ran, but he pursued.  He was relentless."

She brushed his hair back, tucked it behind his ear.  Eskel swallowed hard.

"He cornered me in some ruins and there was nowhere left to run.  He attacked me."  He felt her shake her head. "And I killed him." Her breath shook.  "I might be a vampire, but I'd never killed anyone before.  We drank only from the willing, and rarely at that."

She lifted her head, lifted his face to look at her.  Eskel met her eyes, those familiar eyes that seemed suddenly so strange, so foreign.

"As we struggled, his silver sword snapped.  It hit the bone in my arm, shattered into pieces.  And the wound wouldn't heal, not until I pulled out the shards, curled up in the corner, staring at what I'd done, at his body just laying there motionless." She tilted her head.  "That's when I pulled out my teeth.  I couldn't dare do it again.  I never wanted to kill anyone.  So I broke the shattered pieces of the blade and slid them into my mouth where the fangs had been."  She lifted her lip, showing him the bloody socket, packed with powdered silver from the jar at her feet.

"I told you the truth.  I don't know anything about being an elf; my father apparently was one, but I never knew him.  And with the rest of my family dead, I wandered for a while until I stumbled into the Temple of Melitele.  They took me in, no questions asked, and trained me to be a healer.  I thought it was my chance, that maybe in time that I could make up for what I'd done. But it never felt like enough, even after all these years, moving from one place to the next, helping and moving on before other Witchers or Witch Hunters could find me."

She smiled, so sadly, as if her heart was breaking.  She touched his face again.  Eskel leaned against her fingers.  Words, one hundred, a thousand different things to say fluttered through his head.  He couldn't think of anything, nothing that made any sense as a reply.

"Then," she continued when he could not, "Then you fell in my door, half dead and I thought I was finally going to get my redemption.  Finally, I would save a Witcher, save one of the hunters that I was forced to kill.  And then, maybe I'd be free from my guilt.  Maybe I could finally grieve for my family in peace."

She hummed in the back of her throat.  "I thought you were brought to my door by fate.  I didn't think...I didn't think it would be more than that.  But there you were, not just some heartless killer.  You weren't like him; you weren't at all like the stories said.  You were just a man, with a heart just like mine.  We were both monsters, and yet neither of us really were."

She brushed the knuckles of her other hand, still tightly held in a fist, over his cheekbone delicately.  

"I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."

Eskel crushed her against him.  Words failed, but actions didn't.  She fit into his embrace so perfectly.  He didn't know what to do, what to say, but he knew how he felt.  Maybe it was fate that brought him to her door.  He understood what she said; he knew it was the truth by her broken, heartfelt voice.  But how did they do this? How did a Witcher love a Vampire? How did a monster hunter love a monster?

"We can't help what we are," he managed, his mouth against her temple, her soft hair fluttering over his face.  "I wish I knew what to do."

Maya lifted her head, leaned back to look at him.  She slid her clenched hand up between them and opened her fist.  In her palm were her teeth, four long sharp fangs that she'd pulled out of her own mouth, teeth that had cut her hand as she clutched them, pain she caused herself as penance for a crime she wasn't even guilty of.  

"Just forgive me," she said.  

He put his hand over hers, the fangs digging into his palm, wicked sharp and slicing into his skin even as he wrapped his fingers around hers.  He felt his blood and hers, sticky and damp between their palms.

He nodded mutely and then he kissed her, offering her the only forgiveness he could offer, hoping, begging for hers in return. 


	8. True Love's Kiss

They went to Kaer Mohren anyway.

Maya protested but Eskel wasn't fucking around.  He didn't bother debating or arguing it with her; he just stared at her with his arms crossed over his chest until she finally relented. He put her on Scorpion in front of him, not willing to screw around with walking either.  She didn't fight him on that, just curling up against him in the saddle.

He knew this entire idea was absolutely insane but at this point, all he wanted was the safe, albeit broken walls of Kaer Morhen around them so he could heal the hole in his shoulder where Maya had to yank out that crossbow bolt, and where he could get blazingly drunk in peace.

It was just too much.  He wasn't built for this.

While it wasn't true that Witchers were the heartless machines a lot of people made them out to be, that didn't mean they sat around holding hands.  They were taught to suppress emotions -- can't fight some horrid half-rotten thing if you're shitting your pants about it.

Emotional complexity wasn't really something Eskel had experience with.  But he wanted her with him or him with her, one way or the other.  Didn't matter what she was, not really.

He expected that they'd have the place to themselves, at least for a while.  He'd have time to figure out just why in the fuck he felt entirely too much like cracking into pieces.  No such luck though, because there were lights flickering in the windows when they came across the bridge into outer courtyard.

No horses.  Whoever was in there traveled via portal.   Wasn't Geralt then; he hated those things.

Lambert then. And Keira.  _Great._

Maya was a wreck, after what happened; all the blood she lost and the obvious pain in her mouth from the raw sockets where she pulled out her fangs, so she was hardly in a condition to stand.  He considered just carrying her inside, but that could only make this weirder than it was going to be already.

She was trying though.  She smiled at him, even though it clearly hurt to do it.  He kissed her forehead.

"Just a warning," he started as he limped her towards the door.  

She sighed.  "Someone going to try to kill me in there?"

"No, nothing like that," he said, trying a laugh that sounded more like a sad grunt at best.  "It's just, that's probably Lambert.  He's a good Witcher and not going to attack you but he's-" He paused an made a face, considering.  "Well, he's a fucking asshole."

"Oh, that all?" she said, the corner of her mouth twitching.  "Frankly, after all this, I'm pretty sure a few insults aren't going to be a serious problem."

"He'll save those for me, just watch."

She looked at least faintly amused and he was grateful for it.  They'd be safe for a while, no matter what bullshit came out of Lambert.  Besides, Eskel hadn't figured out what Maya was until she tore that bastard hunter's throat out.  No reason to think Lambert would be able to tell either.

He pushed open the door.

The main hall was lit up with candles, a fire roaring in the tallest fireplace and Lambert had Keira bent over the table in the middle of the room and was banging away at her like a teenager at a brothel.  

_Oh wasn't that a fucking picture._

Once Keira noticed the door open, she bucked Lambert off like an unruly horse and with a flick of her wrist she was dressed again in some illusion or another, leaving Lambert scowling at her with only the table to cover himself.  Not that he particularly seemed to care about being bare ass naked.

"Eskel, you motherfucker."  Lambert looked absolutely pissed off.  His face was redder than it had been and he was sweating hard. "What the fuck are you-" He spotted Maya at that point and raised his eyebrows.  He deflated in a rather literal fashion.  "Great."

Eskel looked at Maya out of the corner of his eye as she crossed her arms over her chest, smirking.

"This must be Lambert," she said.  "Just like you described him."

"I'm so glad Eskel likes to talk about my dick."

Eskel snorted.  "That'd be a fucking short conversation."

Keira cleared her throat and threw Lambert's pants at him, hitting him square in the chest with them.

"As interesting as this is, can perhaps we have introductions without the nudity? Hm?" Keira said, hands on her hips.  She rolled her eyes at Lambert, but clearly with affection.

_Damn, she actually has a real thing for him.  Who would have guessed?_

"Welcome to Kaer Morhen," she said, gesturing to the hall.  "I'm Keira Metz, sorceress.  You've clearly already met Lambert."  She gave Maya a little smirk.

"So you own the place now, do you?" Lambert interjected.  He managed to get his pants on, tugging at the waist as he made his way over to them.  Keira gave him a look and elbowed him in the ribs.   He jumped back out of the way and then sprung back and grabbed her around the waist.  

"Dangerous woman," Lambert snarked.  He cocked his head at Maya.  "You don't look real dangerous though."

Eskel actually laughed at Maya's completely deadpan expression when she replied. "Harmless as a kitten."

"Oh shit, well now I know she's trouble," Lambert said.  He grinned.  "Good for you Eskel."

Lambert looked good.   _Happy._   Fuck, he didn't look like he was likely to punch anyone and he'd just been interrupted mid-screw.  Shit, if he didn't know better, he'd think the bastard was in love.

"So, how'd you end up with this dour asshole?"  Lambert put his chin on Keira's shoulder.  She just smiled faintly.

Maya seemed to consider for a moment.  "That's a long story."  

Eskel put his hand on her back.  "Yeah, it is.  And we can tell you about it later, after we get some rest."  He nudged Maya forward, toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms.  "We'll just let you get back to-" He made a gesture with his free hand.  "Whatever."

Keira made an irritated sound pretending to be a laugh.  "We'll be sure to do that, naturally."

"You did't even introduce us, you fucker," Lambert said after they'd took a few steps.

Maya turned her head back to them.

"Maya," she said.  "Very, uh, Interesting to meet you."

Lambert laughed. "Oh I like her."

Eskel just shook his head and got her through the doorway.  Maya looked up and the long spiraling stairs with disdain.

"Shit," she muttered, half under her breath, leaning against him.  

Now, when they couldn't see, he scooped her up in his arms to carry her up the stairs.  The wound in his shoulder throbbed and screamed and he ignored it.  He felt it start to bleed again, soaking into his coat.  She noticed as soon as he did.  

"Put me down before you kill us both," she said, but without anger.  He let her down on to her feet.  She looped her arm around his waist and he put his across her shoulders.

"Come on," she said, looking up at him, trying to smile through her pain.  "We can help each other, just like always."

Eskel couldn't help but return her smile as they started up the stairs.

They'd been saving each other since the day they met.  It was nice.

 

***

 

It was not easy, but they managed to get up the stairs.  They also managed a fire, stripping out of bloody clothes and cleaning each other up, before bandaging his wound and collapsing into a heap on the bed.  

Eskel wasn't sure he'd slept that hard in a long time, but even Maya's little cottage never felt as safe as Kaer Morhen did.  Even after everything that happened, this was still home.  It was the one place a Witcher didn't have to sleep with one eye open.

It felt so good to actually sleep.  Even better to wake up and there she was, in a little ball in his bed, still asleep when he surfaced back into consciousness.  She'd moved all the way over to the side of the bed and he rolled over towards her, grabbing her and pulling her back towards him.  She felt cold and whimpered a bit but let herself rest back against him.

She never felt cold before.

"Maya," he shook her shoulder, unnerved by how cool and clammy her skin felt.  She groaned, but didn't wake right away.  He had to almost shake her, rolling her over on to her back before she blinked up at him.  Her face was deadly pale. 

"Hi," she managed and even that sounded strained.  

Eskel felt his eyebrows furrow as he frowned.  "What's wrong?"

She shook her head.  "I'll be fine, I just...I'm fine."

Eskel grit his teeth.  "You look like shit."

She laughed half heartedly.  "You are a sweet talker, Eskel."

"I'm serious," he said, putting the back of his hand on her cheek.  "You're cold as ice."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you accidentally swallow blood from someone who's been drinking silver."  She made a face.  "I'll probably be like this for a while."

"I didn't know they knew that trick." Eskel was irritated, both at those bastards and himself for not thinking of it.  Not that he had a clue how to help her, even if he knew this particular vampire hunting maneuver.  He knew how to hurt vampires, not make them feel better.  Wasn't really part of Witcher training.

"They know all your tricks."  Maya was trying to be upbeat but her voice sounded thin.  "Or at least it seems like it.  About ten years ago, they suddenly got smarter."

Eskel gritted his teeth.   _Fucking Berengar. What little he knew he told Salamandra and their lackeys sold the supposedly unimportant bits on the Black Market._  Scary, what information might still be out there.

"Not all," he said through his clenched teeth, "But enough.  I guess that doesn't matter.  What does, is that you look like you're dying."

"I don't think that's very likely," she said and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with her finger and thumb.  She squinted up at him from behind her hand.  "But I can't guarantee I'll be conscious in a day or two.  And I suppose that'll give you a shit mess to explain."

"I don't care about that," Eskel said, grabbing her hand away from her face.  "I planned to tell Lambert what you are anyway.  No more surprises.  But what does this mean exactly?  A day or two of sleep?"

Maya swallowed, shook her head.  "I don't know, but last time I got seriously injured, I crawled into a nook in a cave where I'd stupidly went to pick mushrooms and got ambushed by a half dozen drowners, and I slept for three years."

"Three-" He paused with unintended emphasis. "Three years?" 

"Short of being totally destroyed," she said, sounding as if she was running, not lying on her back.  "We can come back from almost anything.  But only minor wounds heal quickly.  Major wounds take time, unless..."  She trailed off suddenly and looked away, off over his shoulder.  "Nevermind."

"What?"  She was hiding something and that immediately pissed him off.  When she didn't respond, he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him again.  "No more fucking secrets. Tell me."

She couldn't turn away this time, so she just closed her eyes and took a long, struggling breath.  For a moment he thought she'd blacked out, but then she opened her eyes again.  She blinked at him.

"Unless we... _drink_ ," she said.  "But I don't do that.  Not anymore.  And I don't expect you to just sit around waiting for me to wake up." She swallowed.  "I'd leave and make it easier for you, if I thought I could get out of this bed."

"Just how the fuck would you leaving make this any easier?" He snapped at her, maybe too harshly, but he couldn't stop himself.  "I came back for after you for a reason."

"But why? You couldn't possibly still..." He cut her off.

"Shut up," he said.  "Of course I do.  I can't just turn it off.  Fuck, I  _tried_."

Eskel sat up and leaned back against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling.  There was an obvious, practical solution to this.  It was utterly fucked, but this was all so far beyond his experience, what did he know?  

"So blood then."

She made a bitter sound that was nothing like a laugh.  "What're you gonna do? Go find me some nice bandit?"

"No," he said and still not entirely believing he was doing this, he looked back down at her.  She was so pale and she seemed smaller, diminished.  This was idiocy; it went against every instinct, every bit of training beaten into him all these years.  He was going to do it anyway.  "You can have some of mine.  Gods know I've given up blood for lesser reasons."

She tried to sit up.  "Absolutely not!" She got only propped on her elbow and then had to give up, her muscles refusing to cooperate.  "I haven't willing taken blood from anyone in over a century." She shook her head.  "The last person before that hunter...was the other Witcher.  I spent a hundred years making up for that.  I'm not doing it again."

"I'm not suggesting you kill me, for fuck's sake," he said, leaning down over her.  "You told me yourself you didn't do that."

She sighed in frustration.  "Yes, but I haven't drank in a long time.  I don't know that I can control myself.  What if I...what if I lose control of myself and I hurt you?"

"You won't do that," he said and shook his head.

"You don't know that," she said. She sounded near tears.  "I don't know that."

Eskel rolled on to his side until he was facing her.  The words that were threatening in his mouth were more frightening than letting a high vampire have a taste of his blood.  "You love me, don't you?"

Her lip trembled.  "Of course I do."

"Then you won't hurt me," he said.  "So don't hurt me by leaving me here for three years, watching you sleep, not knowing if you'll ever wake up or if I'll live long enough to see it.  Please.  If this will solve this, please. Do it."

He watched her face as she battled with herself.  Eskel just waited.  He was good at waiting, but this was harder than usual.  She seemed to be slipping away by the minute.  

"I won't bite you."  Her statement didn't leave any room for argument in its tone.  "But if you cut yourself... _fuck_ , do you know what you're asking me?"

"Yes," he replied immediately.  "I'm begging you not to leave me."

Before she could respond, or either of them could lose their nerve, he got out of the bed and got his knife.  He stared at it for a moment, turning the blade over against his fingers.  He'd used this knife to gut lesser vampires, skin monsters, take trophies.  He never expected to use it to save someone, least of all himself.  He sat back down on the edge of the bed, sliding back until the length of his body was pressed up against Maya.  

She was so cold.

Without ceremony, he sliced his wrist crosswise, not enough so he might bleed out, but enough that blood would flow easy.  Eskel offered his arm to Maya.  She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lip parted slightly.  Drops of blood flowed down Eskel's forearm and left ruby colored stains on the worn white sheet.

Reluctantly, Maya took his hand and drank.


	9. Copper and Mist

The first touch of Maya's lips was like ice, frigidly cold against his skin.  Eskel carded his fingers through her hair, cradling her against him.  He closed his eyes, the movement of her mouth on his wrist perversely erotic.  Slowly her skin warmed and as it did, he felt a strange sensation, like whispers in his head, voices, electricity cracking at the edge of his consciousness.  

He felt her hands clutching at him, grabbing at his arm, pulling his body closer.  Her fingernails felt razor sharp, yet were still delicate against his skin.  He didn't dare open his eyes.  Maya made a sound, low and supplicating, muffled by her mouth against his wrist.  Her lips, her tongue felt like fire licking against his skin.

Eskel had no idea how much time passed.  All he knew was that he felt so strange, disconnected from the world around him, and yet unbelievably aroused, focused on the sensations of his body and hers as if they were the only things left that existed.  There was more than just an exchange of blood happening.  There was no denying it.  He pressed himself against her, every nerve on edge, his cock unimaginably hard.    

Maya pulled her mouth away from his wrist with a groan, panting.  Eskel finally opened his eyes.  She was breathing hard, her lips smeared wet with blood; blood on her chin, a smear splayed up her cheek.  Her cheeks were no longer pale, but rosy instead, flushed with  _his_ blood.  Her eyes were glassy and her pupils blown.  

He was still bleeding, blood running down his arm, blood getting everywhere and he realized didn't care.

_He had to have her.  Now._

He grabbed her face, wanting her to focus on him, trying to focus on her.  It was hard to see but he willed himself to cut through the fog in his vision.  Maya blinked, closed her eyes and then slowly opened them again.  The corner of her mouth curled up into an expression far too dark to be called a smile.

"Maya?" he said. His voice sounded strange to his ears.  "What's happening?"

"Kiss me." Her voice was hardly a whisper, but it felt like a compulsion.  He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to...he kissed her.  He couldn't think about anything else. He couldn't even tell if it was his own desire, or hers or something else, but he didn't care.  

He kissed her and her mouth tasted of his blood, coppery, foreign and familiar all at once.  Heedless of how weak she was before, he rolled on top of her, pawing at her, tearing at her clothes.  He couldn't get close enough.  She clutched at him with erratic and hurried fingers.  He heard fabric tear, felt the sticky hot mess of blood on his arm where he held her.  Then he was inside her, not even sure how they accomplished it.  

It felt like all the emotions his Witcher mutations suppressed and despite all the years of training to push those remaining down, they just exploded out of him.  He couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch her enough.  His ribs ached as if there was too much inside them, as if his entire body wasn't big enough to contain them.  He thought he heard her say his name, but he couldn't hear over the pounding of his own blood in his ears.  He couldn't even move, couldn't bear to move away, even to seek the friction his body was screaming for.

Maya flipped them over, her strength suddenly magnified.  She sat up, straddling his hip, looking down at him, the scraps of torn white fabric that was once her nightgown spattered with blood.  She tore off a piece of fabric and grabbed at his arm, wrapping the scrap around his wrist to stop the bleeding.  Just that tiny movement made him feel out of control. Eskel closed his eyes, overwhelmed.  

It was too much, he was coming apart.

She said his name again.  Quieter, her hands putting pressure on his wrist, blood soaking through the linen and staining her hands, already sticky with it. 

"Eskel," she said his name again and this time it seemed like a real word.  He struggled to focus his eyes.  One hand still wrapped around his wrist, Maya leaned down over him, her hair brushing over his cheek.  Rosemary and mint.  It was so familiar.  It felt real, even as his head spun.  He felt his cock throbbing inside her, screaming for release, but he still couldn't move.

"Listen to me." Her voice danced into his head, a thread he tried to hang on it.  "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be so strong.  Please just try to focus."

"I'll do whatever...." he panted, his voice hoarse, ragged.  "Whatever you want."

"Shh," she hushed him, her lips soft on his cheek.  "It'll pass.  I only want you.  I didn't mean...."  She sighed. Her breath felt like a cool breeze.  "Come back."

He felt like he was drowning and she was pulling him out of the water.  Her lips brushed his cheek again, just a flutter of movement but so heartfelt.  

"I love you.  You saved me."  Her voice was warm fingers down his spine.

His chest clenched.

Then, with the suddenness of a thunderstorm, something snapped.  It was like surfacing from water, waking from sleep, the clarity of battle.  Eskel heard himself cry out, grabbing her face to kiss her.  He could move again, the paralysis lifted.  He rolled them back over, hips moving against her by pure blind instinct.  Any finesse he might have acquired in making love to Maya over the last months was gone, replaced by animalistic need. His body set a frenetic rhythm and it was all he could do to keep himself from hurting her.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to or not as the haze faded from his mind.

_What had she done to him?_

He struggled to keep his train of thought, but it was washed away with need.  It wasn't even pleasure at this point, but pain, wanting nothing more than to have release.  He struggled towards it, fought for it.  Finally, the agony crescendoed and climaxed, like a wave breaking against the rocks.  He screamed, a ragged, pained sound.

Maya wrapped her arms around him when he momentarily collapsed on top of her, even as he tensed and tried to pull away.  She was stronger now.  He couldn't move.

"Shh," she hushed him again.  "Wait.  I warned you.  But you're okay now, I'm okay now. " He heard her swallow, his sensitive hearing returning as his breathing calmed and his mind found its balance again.  "Please, don't make me regret this more than I already do."

He tried to remember.  

_I'm begging you not to leave me._

He was the one who insisted.  He remembered.  He'd be a piece of shit if he blamed her for what happened.  Some compulsion.  A painful orgasm?  He was ultimately unharmed.  He no longer felt the dampness of blood on his skin, only the sticky, crusty remnants left behind.  

He took a breath and tried to calm himself, letting his muscles relax.  When he did, Maya loosened her grip.  That would have been when he held on tighter.  He was trained to be paranoid.  Despite her longer years, her legitimate fear, she released him.  She trusted him, yet again.

Eskel raised his head to look at her.  She looked as she had before, hale and healthy, the curve of her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling up at him.  Her face was still filthy with his blood, but she was beautiful underneath it, maybe even because of it.  She gave him a sad, forced smile.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked.  

It had hurt, a little, but so much less than losing her.  She was still here.  She was... _it worked._

He shook his head, too much still swirling in his head to form the words he wanted.  He tried to smile, to frown, to express something, but it was all jumbled together.  A part of him wanted to run away from all these feelings, all this complication, but a bigger part of him finally understood.  

_Dangerous women.  There was no getting away from them, especially when you didn't want to._

Maya's hand was on his face.  "You saved me, again.  I'll never be able to repay you."

He looked at her, wondering if she could see all the conflicting emotions waging their battles in his head.  But she was just staring up at him, expectant and maybe a little frightened.  But she was here.  She was still here and they were both alive, at least for one more day.

"I love you," was all he could manage.  This time, she smiled for real. 


	10. Esoteric and Mundane

Eskel didn't expect Lambert to accept it so readily, but he just did, shrugging off the fact that Maya was a high vampire as if it wasn't a big deal.

 _Was it a big deal?_   Maybe it wasn't.

"Look," Lambert said.  "I don't care what she is.  I know you wouldn't have her here if you thought she was a danger to anyone.  She seems to have gotten that stick out of your ass anyway and that's good enough for me." He snorted, smirking.  "Besides, Keira's probably more dangerous."

Eskel shook his head.  He had a point.  

Lambert refilled his tankard and Eskel's from the bottle, draining the last of the vodka and tossing the bottle into the fireplace where it shattered into pieces.  He raised his glass up in a toast.

"To dangerous women," he said, his words a little slurred.  "And the stupid ass Witchers who love them."  He knocked his tankard against the rim of Eskel's and drank deep, draining at least half of it like it was water.  Eskel did the same.  At least he knew how to be drunk.

"You do love her right?" Lambert asked, putting his elbows on the table.  "I means, she's cute and all, but..."

"Yeah," Eskel muttered and took another drink.  As if it wasn't strange enough already, he was going to sit here and talk to  _Lambert_  about his feelings? 

Lambert chuckled. "Damn it, man, that's the best you can do?"

"What you want from me?" Eskel shrugged.  "It's fucking weird."

Lambert seemed to agree.  "Well, if anyone told me you were going to fall in love, I would have told them they were crazy.  Then add on that she's a vampire? Shit."  He laughed.  "Geralt's gonna love this."

"Great."  Eskel emptied his tankard.  He should have been drunk before even attempting this conversation.  "I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"Nope," Lambert said, reaching across the table and slapping him on the arm.  "Never."

 

***

 

Across the room, near the fireplace, Keira was reading.  She didn't bother trying to drink with them.  She'd have to use magic to even keep up and besides, they were just being boys.  As much as she had come to enjoy Lambert's company, as surprising a development as that was, she didn't have much patience for their male bonding. 

She overheard enough for her interest to be peaked however.  Eskel's plump little elf girl was not an elf, or half-elf as Keira had assumed, but a vampire?  Well, that was interesting.  And perhaps it explained the bandage on Eskel's wrist where he didn't have a wound the night before. Very interesting indeed.  

She'd wondered more than once about some of the creatures the Witchers' hunted.  Many of them lived a long time and though she knew there was a magical component to it, their body parts often maintained those qualities after they were dispatched.  She had experimented with a variety of monster pieces since joining Lambert; mostly the common, drowners, ghouls.  But a high vampire, well, that was another thing entirely.  

Not that she was going to dissect her of course.  She had a feeling Eskel might protest.  But perhaps she'd be willing to part with a little hair, perhaps a blood sample?

It appeared she would have the opportunity to broach the subject as Eskel's little vampire made her way into the hall.  She certainly looked better than yesterday, all rosy cheeks and shiny hair now.  Her dress was fairly threadbare, but it seemed to suit her.  She stopped in the doorway, leaning against the stones and looking over at Eskel and Lambert, smiling faintly.

_My, my, she really does love him,_  all gruff and quiet and scarred as he was.  Though, she supposed those adjectives would describe Lambert as well, save for the quiet.  There were times.... Keira shook her head.  Emotions were strange, foolish things.  She'd given up on trying to figure them out.  There were more important things to be done.  

She stood up and as she hoped, the movement caught Maya's attention.  She waved her over to join her, gesturing to the other chair in front of the fire.  Lambert had scrounged these up somewhere, dusty and old, but with a good cleaning they were cozy.  He'd gone to great pains to try to make her comfortable.  He really was a dear, when he set his mind to it.

Maya came over to her, stealing a few glances in Eskel's direction as she did.  He looked up at one point and saw her and  _smiled_.  Keira wasn't entirely sure she'd ever seen him do that before.  Despite the scars tugging at his mouth when he did it, it was like he lit up when he saw her.  Lambert laughed and grabbed his arm.

Keira smirked as Maya came and sat down with her.  "You'll have to excuse them," she said, still smiling.  "They're bonding."

"I see that," Maya said, shaking her head and turning her attention to Keira.  "I'm glad to see it, honestly."

"Oh?" Keira didn't elaborate.

Maya tucked her legs up under her.  Her feet were bare, and Keira knew the floor was cold.  "I used to worry that when he finally left, that he didn't really have anything to come back to.  I'm glad I was wrong."

Keira was intrigued.  "You expected him to leave?"

Maya shrugged.  "Of course.  He fell into my door half dead.  It wasn't a choice he made after all.  I always assumed he'd leave."  She furrowed her brow.  "I'm still very surprised to be here, on a number of levels."

"Yes, I've heard," Keira said, leaning back in the chair, resting her hands casually on the ends of the armrests.  "So," she paused, probably over dramatically. "A high vampire.  It is unexpected."

Maya looked nervous.  "So, he told you?"

"No," Keira shook her head.  "He told Lambert and also has no idea how voices carry in this hall."

"Wonderful," Maya groused.  "Is this going to be a problem?"

"No, no, not at all, in fact, I have rather forward question."

Maya just made a face but didn't reply.  Ah, Eskel must have warned her about sorceresses.  She knew he didn't trust them, especially not after that display by Triss Merigold.

"It's less horrifying than it sounds, I assure you," Keira continued.  "I am trying to find a cure for the Catriona plague.  I believe it has a magical origin, which is why traditional methods of containing it and curing it have failed.  But it's not magical in the sense that it can be cured with a spell.  Believe me, I've tried."  Keira leaned forward.  "I've been experimenting with...pieces of creatures Lambert acquires for me, but those are mostly lower beings with limited power."

Maya looked mildly horrified but managed to mask it with disdain.  "Are you asking me for a  _piece_  of me?"

"Well not without your permission, and nothing untoward.  Just a blood sample perhaps, if you're willing.  You are a high vampire, after all.  There are not many creatures here with your powers."

Maya pursed her lips.  "I'm not sure I enjoy being referred to a creature."  She sighed.  "But I think you may be on to something.  What you likely don't know is that I've been living as a healer for the last, what, 150 years?  I've seen what the Catriona can do.  And I do seem to be immune to it. But-" She raised her hand.  "You'll have to wait for your blood sample.  I will need some time.  I was injured and I ingested some silver tainted blood.  It may be a while until my blood is entirely mine again."

"Of course," Keira said, leaning back again.  "There's plenty of time.  It's likely to snow again and we did promise to wait until Geralt and Yen arrived.  He won't take a portal, so we'll need for the weather to break.  Though I had planned to send Lambert into the forest to see what else I could experiment with.  I understand this area tends to attract forktails and griffons."

"Exactly what are you trying to do?" Maya asked.  "I'm not really an alchemist, but I tried to expand on some traditional remedies and it seemed like some helped a bit, though ultimately they didn't work.  But I haven't seen any Catriona since then, so I wasn't sure.  And I couldn't exactly go dissecting victims without attracting attention, especially not after the rotfiends showed up."  She chuckled softly.  "They hired a Witcher," she said, glancing back at Eskel again, "To clean out the cemetery.  I had to make myself scarce for a while."

"That is an interesting coincidence, in a few ways." Keira commented.  "But If you're interested, I certainly wouldn't mind another set of hands and eyes.  And perhaps your background will add things that never occurred to me.  I do tend to look to the esoteric first."

"I've been trying to avoid anything magical for a long time," Maya said.  "But it may be a good way to spend what remains of the winter, until I... _we_...figure out what we're going to do."

Keira had the good sense not to comment.  It was certainly an odd situation, though hardly the strangest she'd seen.  She debated for a moment, doing what she always did.  She assessed them.  Maya just stared into the fire.  She looked a bit wistful, but Keira would need more information to fully understand why.  Eskel and Lambert clearly hadn't overheard them, but apparently they'd at least slowed down with the drinking and had moved on to cards instead.  Lambert was losing.  He was terrible, worse than terrible, at bluffing.

At first, Keira herself only planned to have Lambert acquire some samples for her.  She'd never expected to like him.  Certainly, she expected to sleep with him, but that wasn't related.  It was an unexpected twist, finding herself enjoying his company, crass and out-of-sorts as he often was.  So Keira supposed she understood this one's reluctance, though it was obvious to the blind that Eskel was smitten with her.  Admittedly that wasn't always enough.

How many years did it take, how many tragedies, before it was enough for Geralt and Yennefer after all?

She wasn't getting involved certainly; That would be ridiculous.  But it would be interesting to see what happened.


	11. Waves of Sunrise

Eskel was standing at the window while Maya slept.

He didn't need that much sleep and he supposed she typically didn't either, but her body was still fighting the silver and she was out cold.  Despite all the alcohol he and Lambert put down earlier, he felt clear headed.  He wasn't sure if it was his Witcher metabolism or denial, but either way, he felt okay.

He never felt  _okay._   Usually, he didn't feel anything.  When he did, it reminded him quickly why he didn't want to feel anything the he'd stomp it back down again.  Geralt was always better at that sort of bullshit and even he was a wreck most of the time.

So maybe he wasn't okay, maybe that wasn't the right word.   But he felt something and it was making him uneasy.  He wasn't used to it.

Still, when he looked back over his shoulder at Maya sleeping peacefully in his bed, it didn't feel wrong.  He felt content, maybe, even if that was the last thing he should feel about the entire situation.  

He looked at her carefully.  He loved to do that when she was asleep, when he could just look at her without having to worry about what he looked like at the same time.  He could see the narrow straps of a nightgown on her shoulders, but the sheet carefully outlined the plump curves of her body even with the extra fabric underneath.  She was on her side, the arch of her hips as round as the rolling hills outside the window.  

He felt something when he looked at her and not just the physical reaction he expected.  He felt good; he felt protective; he felt purposeful.  That was the crux of it, really.  He felt like there was a reason to keep going, keeping moving forward instead of living in this century long stasis of the same thing, year after year.

He looked back out the window and sighed quietly, watching birds leave their roosts as dawn brightened.  It didn't feel only good.  A lot of unfamiliar emotions were dueling inside of him, but it felt like something other than squashed grief for the first time in a very long time.  He didn't try to push them away or pretend they weren't happening and that was as surprising as anything.  

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wide stone of the window frame, waiting.  He tried to think about it, but it was too hard to focus.  Easier to just let them all wash over him.  He could learn to sort them out later.

It seemed like only moments passed when he heard Maya stir behind him.  He opened his eyes to find that the sun had crept above the hills and realized he'd dozed off a bit.  Wasn't the first time he'd slept standing up, but might have been the first time it felt restful.

He turned around to see Maya stretch, her face creased from the pillow, her hair a tangled mess around her face but her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright.  The blood was working.

He'd do it again, if she ever needed it, without hesitation.

She saw him, her head lolling over to look at him.  

"Hi," she said softly, voice still thick with sleep.  "Why are you so far away?"

He didn't even try to stop the stupid smile, the one that was a little too big and pulled on his scars.  Didn't hurt though.

He took the few steps to the bed and crawled over toward her, putting his head on her belly.  He looked up at her and she lifted her head, tangling her fingers into his hair.  Her other hand cupped his cheek, gently caressing his scars as she always did.  He closed his eyes.

"Did you just get in the bed with your boots on?"

Eskel grunted, but it was almost a laugh.  "It's my bed."

She didn't reply right away, but when she did, her voice was soft, hesitant.  "I was hoping it could be ours, at least for a while."

Eskel lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbow to look at her.  His eyebrows drew together in the middle.

"For as long as you want it to be."  He meant it.  A part of him wanted to say something more grandiose, but inexperience or not, he throttled it down.  

Maya smiled on one side of her mouth.  Her eyes were hooded.  "Then take off your boots and get in here."

"Yes ma'am," Eskel chuckled, catching the heel of one boot with the other to push his foot out.  He kicked his leg and the boot thudded on to the floor.  He tried the same maneuver with the other one, but couldn't manage it.  He rolled over on to his back, grabbing the other boot and yanking it off, tossing it haphazardly across the room.  When he rolled back, Maya was biting her lip, trying not to laugh at him.

"What?" he said, shrugging.  He was grinning foolishly anyway.

She shook her head, snickering.  "Come here."  Eskel wiggled himself up until he was next to her and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, cuddling herself up to him.   Once his head hit the pillow he felt a little dizzy.  

_So, maybe he wasn't entirely sober just yet._  Maya wrinkled her nose.

"Gods Eskel, did you two bathe in vodka?" 

"I would never take a bath with Lambert."

Maya laughed.  It was bright and genuine and it made his heart feel too big for his chest.  She opened her mouth and tried to say something but thought better of it, closing her mouth again.  She clamped her lips together into a thin line but the corners tipped up into a tiny grin.

Eskel smirked.  "You sure you're up for all this?"

Her grin disappeared, morphing into something else.  At first he felt worry creeping up the back of his neck, but she smiled again, sweetly this time, chasing the shadows away.  

"For you, anything."  Maya kissed him softly on the mouth and wrinkled her nose again.  "But first, why don't you get some sleep and sober up before I get drunk from kissing you."

"Would that be so terrible?"  He leaned towards her just a little and the bed spun under him.  

_Okay, things were wobbly now.  Maybe she had a point._

She didn't answer, just nudged at him until he rolled over and his back was to her.  She wrapped her arm around his waist, her face against the back of his neck.  Her breath brushed over the little hairs there.  She squeezed him, slipped her knee between his legs.  Little as she was, she made him feel warm and like he was safe; like she was protecting him.

After what happened, maybe he needed to consider that.  She was probably as capable in a fight as he was, even if her tools were different.  He  _was_  safe, with her here.  Safer than he was alone anyway, for probably a great number of reasons.

Eskel sighed and relaxed back against her.  Maya's voice was the the last thing he remembered before he quickly drifted off to sleep.  A bottle of vodka and staying up all night was unsurprisingly good at knocking him out.

"Love you," she whispered against his neck.

It was the perfect way to fall asleep. 


	12. A Light in the Darkness

Kaer Morhen was home and had been forever, but this is what he’d always wanted it to feel like.  

Usually it was familiar but chaffing.  The castle was enormous, but it often felt too small and Eskel really only felt normal when he was out on the path; hunting monsters, killing things.  He still needed that, and a temporary lull in the weather that had Keira sending the two of them out to see if they could find a forktail was exhilarating.  Strange thing was that it wasn’t just the hunt he was looking forward to when they headed out at dawn.  

It was coming home that excited him too.  Usually, that was the worst part.  

There was this weird thing -- once the adrenaline wore off; the thrill of the chase was over and whatever he’d hunted was lying dead at his feet?  He’d feel satisfied for a few minutes, sometimes an hour or two, but after that it would all fade into this grey bullshit that just made him want to get drunk as hell.  It felt like a hangover without getting the pleasure of drinking first.  He hated that feeling; that disappointed apathy that inevitably followed.  

Somehow, he didn’t think that would happen now.

It helped having a reason other than saving ungrateful strangers for a pouch of coin that would usually be gone even before that shitty feeling wore off again.  He was hunting the Forktail for Maya.  Lambert reminded him it was for Keira, so she could study the Forktail’s parts.  But Maya had been working with her, and he loved how happy it was making her.  He didn’t even completely understand what they were doing, but that didn’t matter.  He could already imagine coming back to her smiling face and it was worth it.  It was worth the fact that it was really still too wet and cold to be out here and his boots were totally soaked through.  It was worth it even though Lambert was bitching like a wet cat and smelled just as bad.  It was worth it though they weren’t going to make a coin unless the Forktail had swallowed one and they found it in the thing’s belly.

Coin was nice, but it didn’t make him happy.

Took all day to get the damn thing’s attention.  They had the goat staked out but the cold ozone smell of the melting snow seemed to mute the way the scent travelled.  By the time the Forktail finally appeared on the horizon, Eskel swore that if Lambert didn’t stop bitching about his wet feet and his cold ass he was going to feed him to a rock troll.  But the familiar shape backlit by the orange glow of the evening sun shut him up quick.  

“Fucking finally,” Lambert bitched one last time before shifting his focus.  Lambert might be a jackass, but he was good at what he did.  Eskel heard the sound of Lambert’s sword easing out of the sheath before he even bothered to move.  Forktail was a ways off yet.

Eskel looked back at Lambert over his shoulder.  He resisted the urge to make some sarcastic comment about getting his weapon out too quickly.  Maybe they were both finally getting laid on the regular, but it had been a while since either of them had a shot at a monster.  His palm was itching to have his sword in it too.    

Winter was hard, even when it was the best winter in forever.

The beast drew closer, enticed by the bleating of the goat and hungry enough to not see the Witchers half concealed in the brush nearby.   The only leaves were brown and dead but the twigs were thick enough to mostly hide them.  A smarter creature wouldn’t have been fooled, but thankfully Forktails were as stupid as drowners, only bigger and a lot harder to kill.  

Eskel pulled his silver sword.  The hilt fit comfortably into his hand, even as his brain unhelpfully supplied the memory of the last time he held it.  

 _To Maya’s throat, before dropping it into the bloody snow._   

He shook his head.  Later.

Branches broke, spray of soggy snow flipped up into the air as the Forktail ungracefully landed a few paces away from the goat.  Lambert tugged a cord and set the goat free and insinuated himself in between the fleeing bleater and the Forktail’s hunger.  It growled at him.  Bared his teeth.  Eskel advanced on it until he was level with Lambert, their swords both reflecting the orange pink light of the sunset reflecting off the clouds.

“Come and get it you fucker,” Lambert taunted, not that a Forktail was smart enough to be offended.  It did not like the sound of his voice apparently and it lashed out with it’s talons.  Eskel’s sword moved without even thinking about it, two toes and long claws tumbling down into the snow as the silver blade sliced into the Forktail as easy as feet sunk into the snow.  

The Forktail screamed in agony.

The fight washed everything else away.  

He felt Lambert’s sign brush past him, heard the sizzle as a flame of Igni distracted the Forktail from the goat and it’s missing toes and turned its attention back to them.  Eskel rolled out of the way, flanking it.  Forktails were dumber than dog shit, but that didn’t make them not dangerous.

Eskel wrapped a shield of Quen around himself before charging in.  His boots crunched on the damp snow, tufts of dead grass and mud flipping over in his footprints.  With the Forktail distracted by Lambert’s fire and cursing, Eskel was able to slip in close.  His silver pierced the softer skin under the creature’s wing before it realized he was even there.  The blade sunk deep, carefully aimed between the ribs.  Eskel jerked his arm and the silver sword tore down, scales flipping off and sticking to him, wet with blood.  The Forktail jolted, shrieking in pain and he twisted the blade free, springing back just as it’s forked tail whipped around and narrowly missed hitting him.  It’s keening wail cut off abruptly and it’s head turned to him, teeth snapping instead and bubbles of pink froth gurgling up out of it’s throat.

“Lambert, I hit the lung!” he shouted as Lambert circled into place.  “It shouldn’t be able to fly.”

That was good and bad.  Wild with panic, the beast wouldn’t bother to protect itself.  It would act erratically, exposing itself to anything but there was no telling what the hell it would do.  They had to finish it quick before it got in an accidental lucky shot.  

Lambert’s face reminded him that he knew as well as Eskel did how dangerous a mortally wounded monster was, after countless lectures from Vesemir.  Eskel was thankful the excitement of battle had blunted his feelings out of habit as the old man’s face flashed through his head.  That was the first time he’d thought about him without a pang of pain in his chest since it happened.  It distracted him still, just long enough for blood from the thing’s mouth to splatter on him when Lambert’s sword sliced into the side of it’s neck and it reared wildly.  

Eskel dodged back, narrowly avoid getting scrapped by teeth.  He flipped his sword in his hand and brought it down just as the head whipped passed him, the silver blade hitting the crook of its neck.  The blade shuddered as it scrapped bone before finding the sweet spot between the base of it’s skull and the top if its spinal cord, severing it neatly.  With an uncoordinated twitch, the Forktail collapsed in a heap.  

Lambert looked mildly disappointed. “That wasn’t a fight,” he groused.  “Hardly got the blood pumping.”

“Save your pumping for Keira,” Eskel snarked back.  

Lambert gave him a snide look, raising an eyebrow.  “I like to keep all my weapons sharp.”

Eskel couldn’t even manage a smart reply.  He was tired of talking about Lambert’s dick.  He’d been talking about it all day.  The man could not shut up about Keira, but since he was as useless with this sort of thing as the rest of them, the best Lambert could do was talk about all the places he’d fucked her.  Eskel wasn’t going to encourage him to start up that litany again.

“Well, use one of your sharp weapons to get the heart and blood samples your Sorceress asked for so we can be done.”

Lambert pulled his dagger from his belt without complaining, which was almost out of character already but then he paused, looking up with an utterly serious expression.  That was eerie.  Lambert took a breath and then with his foot, flipped the bulk on the Forktail on it’s side.  He hacked into the cartilage in the center of its ribcage without ceremony.  He glanced up at Eskel again.

“When the snow melts,” Lambert started, knife sawing.  “What’re you gonna do?”

It wasn’t ever a question before.  Eskel could only shake his head.

“Yeah,” Lambert said, looking back down as he thrust his hand inside the Forktail.  “I don’t know either.”

Eskel sheathed his sword, walking around the corpse just as Lambert yanked the heart out.  He took the heart from Lambert and shoved it in a leather pouch, wiping blood off on his pants.  Lambert stood after scooping some blood into a vial and tucking it into his belt.  He looked at Eskel out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know,” Lambert said again, half muttering under his breath.  “It shouldn’t be a decision at all. Never thought I’d have to think about it.  But I never wanted to be here in the first place.  And now, maybe I don’t have to be.”

Eskel hadn’t expected that.  He knew Lambert’s story; how his father was shit and how he was bitter about the whole thing.  He got it.  Becoming a Witcher was fucking unpleasant to say the least.  But all his bitching aside, he never imagined Lambert would just walk away.

“Are you really just gonna stop being a Witcher?” Eskel was incredulous.

“Why the fuck not?  I mean, I can get samples for Keira, I can kill stuff in my way, but if she does what she’s after, I won’t need to be a Witcher.  There’ll be enough coin.”  Lambert smirked.  “And a lot more time for my other weapon.”

Eskel grunted.  His voice came out more harshly than he’d intended.  “You really think she’ll keep you around after you aren’t useful anymore?”

“Sure.” Lambert shrugged like he was blowing it off..  “Probably.”  He frowned and there was a dark look in his eyes.  “Maybe.  I mean, I love her. She says she loves me.”  He looked away, uncomfortable.  He cleared his throat.  “Yen keeps Geralt around.”

“For now.”  Eskel gave Lambert a sideways look.  “Besides, you aren’t telling me you trust Yennefer, are you?”

“No.”  He shrugged again.  “But I trust Keira, though it’s probably completely stupid.”  He tried to laugh but it was forced at best.  “Besides, I ain’t the one fucking a vampire.”

“And there it is.”  Eskel grimaced.  He’d been waiting for it.

“There’s what?”

“The part when you convince me to slice her up, right?”

Lambert frowned.  “Are you always this paranoid?.  I don’t care who you screw or whatever.  Just don’t...don’t fuck yourself up okay?”

“Aw Lambert, I didn’t know you cared.”  Eskel sneered.  He did not want to talk about this with Lambert.  Hell, he didn’t want to talk about it at all.

“Fuck you Eskel.”  

“Sorry, don’t want any.”  Eskel looked pleased with himself and also with entirely avoiding the conversation.  It was so easy to forget what Maya was when assholes weren’t constantly reminding him.  He just wanted to go back and bury his face in her hair and not think about it some more.  In fact, he’d like to not think about anything permanently.

He wondered if there was a spell to make it Winter indefinitely.  

Lambert rolled his shoulders.  “Fine, let’s go.”  He slipped his knife back into the scabbard on his belt as he turned back toward the path.  Eskel followed without a word.  Only the creak of his leather jacket and the crunch of their feet in the snow broke the silence.  Instead of dealing with it, Eskel thought about how Maya smelled.  He thought about how she made delicious bread and how she made potions and ointments that smelled terrible too.  It made him smile.  He thought about how incredible it felt waking up all these mornings with her curled up in the bed next to him.  

As they reached the smooth rut of the path, Lambert looked back at Eskel over his shoulder abruptly pulling him out of the cozy memory and back into his sodden boots..  “You’re still gonna to have to decide,” he said.  “It won’t stay winter forever.”

“I know.”  Eskel didn’t say it even loud enough for Lambert to hear him.  

How the hell could he possibly choose?

What is a Witcher if he’s not a Witcher anymore?   And what’s more important; killing monsters or being happy?  They didn’t kill monsters because it was the right thing to do but they did it because they could.  That was reason enough for a long time.  

How long were they supposed to fight battles they could never win?

Eskel’s boots dragged through the snow.  The sunlight faded.  A gust of breeze whistled through the bare branches.  He shivered against the encroaching darkness, the cold taking grip.  It might not be winter forever, but maybe it would still be winter tonight.  

He was tired of thinking about things.  He was tired of Lambert.  He just wanted to get in bed with a bottle of vodka and her and to hell with everything else.

They slogged in through the portcullis, though at this point they could have walked in through any of ten points in the shattered wall.  Eskel refused to think about that either.  He grabbed the pouch from his belt and was going to give the Forktail heart to Lambert so he didn’t even have to look at Keira when he heard the distinctive sound of a portal opening, the gold glow of Sorceress magic opening in the middle of the courtyard.

“Shit.”  

Instinctively, they both pulled their swords.  Eskel dropped the pouch into the snow at his feet.  With a shimmer of light, a hooded figure sauntered out of the portal and it closed behind her.  The woman lifted her head and pushed back her hood, eying the naked swords with a sardonic smile.  Her long black curls tumbled down over her back.  Even in the darkness, her violet eyes were brilliant.

“Eskel.  Lambert,” Yennefer’s voice was controlled and soft.  She smiled faintly again.  “You can put those away.”  She tucked her hair behind her ear and stretched.  “Geralt will be along shortly.  You know how he feels about portals.” Without another word she turned and headed for the door.

“Good to see you too Yennefer,” Lambert shouted at her back.  Then under his breath he muttered, “Bitch.”

“I heard that Lambert,” she said, stopping on the stairs.  Yennefer turned back, her face still cool and neutral.  “Speak your mind as you wish.  It doesn’t suit you to whisper.”

Lambert opened his mouth and closed it again like a fish.  Yennefer disappeared through the door.

“Fuck me like a pretty goat,” Lambert groused.

Eskel swallowed hard. He sheathed his sword and plucked the pouch out of the snow.  Blood had seeped through the leather and there was a round stain of blood where it lay.  He kicked muddy snow over it.  He handed the pouch to Lambert.

“Take it.  At least Keira will be happy.”  Lambert took it, nodding absently and not really looking at him.

He looked up at the towers of Kaer Morhen, jutting up into the dark blue of the sky.  There were dozens of windows but almost all of them were dark.  There was one with a light in it flickering brightly in the growing darkness.  It was the stairway that led to the room he shared with Maya. A lantern burned in the window to light the stairs.  

Eskel looked down and his hand was stained with Forktail blood.

_Winter was over._


	13. Hunting Spring

Eskel stood in the snow, staring up at the door for entirely longer than was reasonable.

Yennefer and Geralt’s return was as inevitable as the changing seasons, but it was one thing to know it and another to accept it.  He wasn’t good at this.  Feelings, decisions...those weren’t things Witchers were supposed to need to do.  As wrong as the propaganda usually was about them, there was some truth to it like in all the best lies. The mutations and the training did it’s best to stamp out their individuality.  

Vesemir had helped them hang on to some of what made them men, but he could only do so much.  But it felt like an excuse as he stood there, his toes turning to ice in his boots, the damp wind making his scars sting.  He’d never made choices on his own before because he didn’t have to.  He was the reliable one; the rational one, the rule follower.  

Geralt was the rule breaker.  Lambert was the one who pushed against the grain.  He was steady, stable, stick-up-his-ass Eskel who did what he was told and never took chances.

He shifted his feet, hearing the crunch of the slushy snow under his feet.  He rubbed his fingers together, the sticky residue of blood balling up and flaking off his skin.

_What the fuck was he going to do?_

The door and the bare stone walls didn’t have any answers.

Sighing, he made his way up the slope and pushed his way through the door, the warm air hitting him with the cloying scent of perfume.  No one seemed to notice him come in, attention focused on Yennefer.  Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried.

“Certainly, it won’t change everyone’s opinions immediately, but are you surprised that she would offer?”  Yennefer’s back was to him.  She flipped the length of her black curls over her shoulder.  “It seems foolish not to consider it.”

Lambert grunted.  “It sounds like a trap.”

Eskel could practically hear Yennefer roll her eyes at him.  Keira didn’t comment, her elbows on the table, looking up at Yennefer passively.  She did glance up at Lambert but without expression.  Usually he found Maya with Keira but she was conspicuously absent.  

“Don’t be idiotic,” Yennefer retorted, still either not noticing or not acknowledging him. Keira looked up, as well as Lambert, who gave him an irritated look.  “I’m not suggesting you relocate to Redania.” Yennefer continued.

“At least Radovid was up front about wanting to exterminate us,” Lambert groused.

Yennefer threw up her hands. “You’re impossible as always. I’ll let Geralt discuss it with you.  He should be here tomorrow morning at the latest, unless he gets distracted by something shiny.”

“Or tits,” Lambert muttered under his breath.  Yennefer didn’t dignify him with a reply.  She knew how Geralt was.  She also knew he always came back to her in the end.  It didn’t seem to matter to her in the big scheme of things, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t jealous.  Her annoyance was more potent than the scent of lilacs and gooseberries.  With a swirl of black and white skirts she turned and practically floated out into the hallway towards Geralt’s room at the top of the tower.  

Eskel moved woodenly towards the table as Yennefer disappeared.  It was better that way.  He didn’t trust her.  Was pretty sure he never would.  

_Where the hell was Maya?_

Lambert leaned over, slapping his palms on the rough surface of the table.  He grunted at Eskel as he got closer.  “You missed the fun.”  His expression was the exact opposite of amused.

Eskel raised his eyebrows.  “Apparently.  What was that about?”  He jerked his thumb in the direction Yennefer went. Lambert made a face but didn’t reply.

Keira sighed musically.  “Let’s just wait for Geralt shall we?  Before either you have a fit and make a rash decision?”  She put her hand on Lambert’s forearm and he relaxed just slightly.  Someone without a Witcher’s senses probably wouldn’t have noticed.  Keira probably couldn’t even tell, but Eskel saw it.   It was sweet.

He mentally slapped himself.

Lambert nodded, his head hanging.  He looked over at Keira.  “Right.  He’s an idiot, but I trust him more than Yennefer anyway.”

Keira carefully didn’t reply.  Eskel knew she was as treacherous as Yennefer but Lambert seemed to have forgotten that.  But Eskel really wasn’t in a position to judge.

“Where’s Maya?”  

“In the lab,” Keira said, her fingers still flexing on Lambert’s arm.  “She thought it best to stay out of sight for a bit.  Yennefer can be rash.  Unlikely she’d realize what Maya was unless we told her of course, but better safe than sorry.”

Eskel swallowed.  It was always going to be like that, wasn’t it?  Those who knew and those who didn’t; those who understood and those ready with a silver blade for her throat or a spell to do the same.

“Yeah, thanks.”  He knew he didn’t sound very thankful.  He sounded like shit.  He left without another word, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t notice.  Keira’s hand had captured all of Lambert’s attention.

The lab was through the kitchen and down the stairs; where Vesemir taught them to make potions, where they brewed the foul crap that made them scream and mutated them into what they were.  Eskel knew enough to make his own potions, but he hated the fucking lab.  It made his mouth taste like the memory of his Trials.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake it.  

It was coppery. Bitter.  Foul.

_Gods, he needed a drink._

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls.  It was a lonely, eerie sound.  He felt spooked and it wasn’t like him.  He charged in after all sorts of things that would send normal people to the asylum but his heart was beating too fast inside his ribs at the sound of his own feet.  He swallowed hard.

The light from the lab shone into the darkened hallway, a flickering glow of orange and yellow light.  The soft sound of glasses tickling against each other was barely audible over the thudding of his blood in his ears.

He leaned against the doorframe with his best impression of being casual he could muster.  Maya heard his footsteps and turned towards him as he rounded the corner.  His posture felt ridiculously fake but Maya’s smile was real when she saw him, a little flush of pink appearing in the apples of her cheeks. He still didn’t know how she could look at him like that, but it made him feel too warm.

“I was waiting for you,” she said, setting down the vials she was holding into their wooden rack.  She took a step towards him but then stopped and cocked her head.  The smile on her face faded.  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Eskel shook his head.  Nothing had happened, nothing he could point to.  Clearly Yennefer had some scheme, some offer, but what did it really matter?  Winter was ending.  Time was drawing close to when he’d have to figure out what the hell this was.  

It was making him nauseous.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” Maya took a hesitant step closer.  He tried not to react, but that sick part of him that wanted to protect himself, some sort of broken self preservation instinct kicked in and he flinched away from her.

Her lips parted and he heard her sharp intake of breath.  He heard her heart thump in her chest.  She folded her arms across her middle and took a half step back.  She didn’t say anything else, just looked at him.  He could hear her question, even if she didn’t say it.  

He looked at the floor.

That morning, he’d made love to her before he left.  It was a slow, sensual thing, something born of the comfort they’d developed between them.  He could still feel how it was; the firm, confident touch of her hands, the taste of her breath.  He wanted that, but it felt like it was being snatched away by the melting snow.

He thought of heartbreak, of Dierdre. He remembered feeling like broken glass, damaged goods, failure and just cold nothing for so long.  He couldn’t bear the idea of feeling like that again, but what could he do?  Was there any way for them to make this work?  Wasn’t it better to just let it go now before it got any worse?

Eskel turned his eyes back up to find her still watching him, waiting silent and patient and he realized it was entirely too late for that.  Maybe, maybe if he’d left when he realized what she was, maybe he’d have stood a chance at riding out his anger instead of falling apart.  But it was way past that now.  

This was a fight he couldn’t win.  If he won, he’d still lose.  Might as well surrender now.

He was bollocks for words to express how he felt, so instead he just moved, just reached out and grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.  As fast as he could move, he knew she was faster, but she didn’t stop him and just let him pull her tight, resting her face against him.  His set his chin on the top of her head.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” he said.  “Winter’s over.  I thought this would be over then too.”  He shook his head; the strands of her hair felt silky against his neck.  “But I don’t want it to be.”

Her grip on his waist tightened.  “Me neither.”

It was hard to breathe.  Eskel closed his eyes and just drank it in.  The choice was already made for him.  It had been made from the minute he fell into her door and she caught him; from all those months after, from the crunch on bloody snow under his knees when he dropped his silver sword and loved the monster instead of killing her.

Winter was over.  How he felt didn’t change.

 

***

 

“Damn it!” Maya swore, slapping her hand down on the workbench.  His earlier stupidity past, he’d found a chair and stayed to watch her work.  He was sitting in the corner, leaning back in the chair, his long legs swung up on the table, careful not to disturb the piles of notes and papers stacked there.  

The vial she had over the heat smoked and sputtered, the viscous liquid inside quickly turning black.  He was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to do that.  Keira had her running experiments with her own blood -- it was a compromise they’d made.  Maya was willing to provide her blood, now that it was finally clean of the silver but she was going to be more than just a test subject.

“What happened?”  Maybe alchemy and potions weren’t his forte, but he knew enough to be dangerous.

“I can’t keep it stable, no matter what I do.” she groused, blowing out the flame under the vial.  “Before we even consider using my blood for this, we have to find a way to keep it from breaking down once it’s out of me.  It doesn’t make any sense.  All the other samples? The blood just sits there.”  She waved a hand at the table.  “Drowners and neckers and griffons, every disgusting thing you’ve found and saved a piece of, they all just stay the way they are with either magic or physical preservation.  But my blood turns to this black whatever-the-hell this is after only a few hours.”  She grunted.  “Only difference between me and the other monsters is I’m not dead.”

“Let’s not test that.”  Eskel’s voice sounded a little thready to his own ears.

Maya chuckled darkly.  “I’m slightly more useful when I’m alive.”  She shook her head.  “But we probably do need to test it.  Either we need a bruxa or a high vampire gone rogue enough to get someone’s attention.  And I need you or Lambert to kill it and bring us some samples.  I need to figure out if this is a vampire blood thing or living blood thing.”  She shrugged.  “I’m not giving up on it either way, but right now I don’t know where to go next.”

Eskel grimaced.  It was one thing to hunt a Fleder or a Ekimma.  They were hardly more than animals. Hell, even a Katakan would be okay, ugly as they were, but a bruxa was never his favorite to hunt even when they went really bad.  They were good at manipulation.  They’d put on a sweet face and cry and beg for their lives.  He killed them anyway when they deserved it, but that didn’t make it easier to do.

How could he face one now and not think of Maya?  How could he not think that maybe if someone crashed into them at the right time, maybe they could be something more?  He must have started scowling, staring off into space.  He didn’t realize until he felt Maya’s warm hand under the ridge his chin.  He lifted his eyes up to look at her.  The corner of her mouth was turned up just a little, a knowing look on her face.  “You don’t have to, you know.  Lambert is more than happy to do whatever Keira wants.  If it’s...too weird.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.  “ _If it’s weird_ she says.  Are you kidding?”

She smiled.  “It’s all weird, I know.”  She shrugged again.  “I guess it might not matter.  Probably depends on whatever happens tomorrow.  Lambert looked pretty pissed off when he came down here to get Keira after Yennefer showed up.  I wasn’t sad to stay away, other issues notwithstanding.”.

“Lambert always looks pissed off.  How could you tell?”

Maya shook her head at him.  “No he doesn’t.  At least, not when he’s with Keira and he thinks no one else is looking.”

“I’m not sure whether to be surprised or disgusted,” Eskel snarked, rolling his eyes probably a bit more dramatically than necessary.  He was usually pretty stiff, he knew that.  But Maya seemed to bring out several parts of him he didn’t even realize he had.  Even now when he was worried about what was going to happen tomorrow, his guard was down when it was just the two of them.  

It bothered him less than it should have that he apparently had that in common with Lambert.

“Anyway,” she continued, not letting him divert the subject, “What do you think it’s about?  I mean, clearly something is up.”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I overheard a little, something Lambert apparently thinks is a terrible idea and from the look on her face, Keira doesn’t agree with him.  But Yennefer didn’t say anything to me and I didn’t ask.  She scares the shit out me.”

“Huh,” Maya said.  She made a face.  “Is she really as beautiful as the stories make her out to be?”

“Yeah,” Eskel had to admit.  He wasn’t blind.  “But it’s not real.  She’s a Sorceress; it’s all glamour and make up.  Who knows what she really looks like.  Not that I think it would matter to Geralt in the end.”

“Do you really think so?  Even if she was old and ugly?”

He shrugged.  “She's probably is old at least.  I mean, she’s been around as long as we have and Sorceresses do live longer, sure, but they age just like everyone else does.”  He didn’t want to talk about Yennefer, but the entire idea made him wonder.  They’d never talked about the future.  It seemed too shadowy and ephemeral to even consider.  “Will you age?” he asked.  “I mean, eventually?  I know you’ve been around a long time, but?”

Maya made a face.  “No,” she said.  “Once we’re adults, that’s pretty much it for the duration.  However long we end up kicking around, we pretty much stay the same.”

“I will,” he said, his voice quiet.  “Vesemir was...fuck...he’d never admit it, but he was at least 300 years old.  But he looked old as long as I’ve known him. And I will too, eventually, if I don’t get killed by something first, that is.”

“Don’t get killed,” Maya said quickly.  “Because I think you’d look dashing with grey hair.”  She didn’t wait for him to reply.  She leaned in and kissed him, her fingers still on his chin.  It was just a quick kiss, but her eyes twinkled when she pulled away.  

He opened his mouth to comment but she moved her hand from his chin to his lips, shushing him before he could begin.

“Hush you,” she said.  Her voice was so warm it made his fingers tingle.  “I know what you think but you are handsome whether you believe it or not.”  She pressed another short kiss to the junction of scars at the corner of his mouth before she stood back up again.  She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms up over her head.

“So,” she said, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders again.  “Geralt’s supposed to show up tomorrow and then we’ll talk about whatever and ….”  She trailed off.

“And something,” he ineptly finished for her.

“Right, well.”  Maya put her hands on her hips and grinned as a sudden, unexpected, and as devilish an expression as he’d ever seen spread across her face.  “Let’s go get really drunk and have loud sex until Lambert pounds on the door to tell us to shut up.”

Eskel barked a laugh.  “That’s a hell of a plan.”

Maya shrugged.  “Whatever happens, let’s make sure the only regret we have is the hangover.”

Eskel got to his feet, smiling foolishly against his better judgement.  He wondered if she’d ever stop surprising him.  He certainly hoped not.  

“What’s your poison?” he asked.  She drank rarely and sparingly thus far.  From what he knew, it was blood that made vampires drunk.  Wait… “Or,” he begin before his brain stopped him. “Or I’ll drink the vodka and you can drink from me.”

Her expression changed like storm clouds rolling in on a windy sky.  “You’re joking, right?”

He shook his head, not sure if he’d lost his mind or not.  He remembered what happened.  There was a connection between them when she drank from him and now that he knew what to expect?  That might be one hell of a ride.  “No, entirely serious.”

Maya took a deep, shaky breath.  “Let’s start with the vodka.”  She swallowed, ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.  “We’ll see where we go from there.”

 


	14. Thaw

Eskel didn’t want to sleep.  

There were plenty of reasons not to; entirely too many things to think about and worry about but after the events of the night he should have had the opposite problem.  It was all sort of a blur really, made wobbly by vodka and blood loss and earth shattering orgasms but still, he stayed awake past the end of the alcohol’s effects until the first light crept through the window.

He stayed in bed, laying on his back, arms folded behind his head.  He stared up at the crumbling stone ceiling as the minutes turned into hours and Maya slept peacefully beside him.  Maybe he’d been wavering before, but now that he’d accepted that this was what he wanted, he was going to be damned if anyone took her away from him.  

It had finally dawned on him that it didn’t matter what the hell Yennefer was planning.  He wouldn’t do anything that was going to risk Maya.  If that meant he had to leave everything else behind, so be it.  The School of the Wolf was dead.  There hadn’t been a new Witcher here in ages, not since Leo died and he’d never even undergone the Trials.  Maybe there weren’t any new Witchers anywhere.  If they were going to die out, then it was going to happen whether he participated or not.  He’d given nearly a century of this unnatural life to this thing he didn’t even choose for himself.

It was time to make his own choices.

Eskel heard commotion through the door and knew that Geralt had finally ambled in.  Normally, he would have dragged himself out of the bed immediately, no matter what condition he was in, to greet him.  Geralt and Lambert and Vesemir, they were his only family for so long and that’s what family did.  But instead, he rolled over and wrapped his arms around Maya instead.  She made a small contented sound and burrowed back against him.

Geralt could wait.

“Eskel you bastard, get up!”  Lambert’s voice grated through the door.  Eskel groaned when a fist pounded on the door before his voice even stopped echoing off the walls.  Maya did the same, dramatically draping her arm over her eyes.

So much for waiting.

“If you don’t open this door,” Lambert said, “I’m going to just keep at it until you’ll have a pair of screaming headaches. Now get up.”  He kicked the door for emphasis.

“Keep your pants on,” Maya moaned before Eskel had the sense of mind to reply.  “We have to find ours first.”

Lambert snorted a laugh.  “For fuck’s sake.”  He didn’t sound as irritated as his words.  “Fine, just...just get down here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

It sounded both vague and threatening.  Instead of getting up, Eskel squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Maya’s disheveled hair.  He regretted not sleeping and it was exactly the only thing he wanted to do right now.  Anything was better than getting up and facing whatever was waiting for them downstairs.  He felt the bend of Maya’s elbow as she folded her arm and pressed the palm of her hand against his head.  He burrowed in closer, breathing deeply.  Her hair smelled like sex and sweat and it was wonderful.  

“We might as well get up,” she said, her voice still soft with sleep.  “I don’t relish the idea of being dragged down there naked.”

“That’s the sort of first impression Geralt is used to from women.” Eskel chuckled.  “I’m not sure he’d even be surprised.”

He could almost hear her roll her eyes but she didn’t say anything.  He couldn’t blame her.  He really did do that too often.  And maybe she didn’t exactly pick him since he dumped himself on her doorstep, but she was still here. With him; even after he’d been completely idiotic more than once.  

_Enough already, man. She’s here with you because she wants to be.  Accept it._

Pressing a kiss against her scalp, Eskel reluctantly disentangled himself from Maya  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced at her over his shoulder.  Instead of getting up, she curled up more and yanked the covers up over her head until just a few wisps of tangled orange hair were visible. Eskel poked her in the ribs where he knew she was ticklish and she just curled up tighter.  

“Come on,” he said, poking her again and smirking at how she tried to squirm away.  “You’re the one who told me to get up.”  He poked her again and she squeaked this time, wriggling into a tighter ball.  Eskel grabbed the sheet and tore it off her, flinging it across the room. Maya squealed and rolled over, sort of launching herself at him awkwardly.  If she’d been any bigger or he’d been less coordinated, he was positive they would have tangled up and fell on to the floor.  As it was, he managed to grab her and slide her over onto his lap.

Neither of them were wearing anything and this was not encouraging him to get up. Parts of him were up certainly, but none that were interested in leaving this room.  She was warm against him, even her hands and feet.  Instinctive bodily reactions aside, just being here was good enough.  But he could felt in the tension in her muscles that told him she was thinking the same thing he was.

They had to go down there.  

Geralt wasn’t just going to murder her.  And Yen, whatever devious crap she might be up to, there were always alternatives.  But things were undoubtedly going to change again.  Neither of them were particularly fond of that.

“Come on,” he said again, “Let’s do this.”  

Maya lifted her head and looked up at him.  She took a deep breath and nodded, forcing a smile.  It looked a little painful but she still meant it.  It felt like he was starting to understand her.  It made his ribcage seem too tight.

“Right,” she said.  “We can do this.”  She slipped off his lap and stood up, grabbing a discarded bit of clothing from the floor in the same fluid movement and giving him a lovely view.  She stood up and turned around, catching him watching.  Maya grinned.  She made a show of looking him over.  She shook her head just a little.  “Too bad we don’t have a little more time.” Her smiled disappeared suddenly, replaced by a pained expression.  “Whatever happens, we will have more time, won’t we?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Eskel said.  Her expression spurred him into action.  He finally got up out of the bed and started looking around for his pants, wherever the hell they’d ended up.

But she was right; whatever happened, he was going to stay with her.  There was going to be more time.  He’d spent too long on his own; too long only fighting because he thought it was all he was good for, for coin, for some vague sense of greater good.  He tried to make moral decisions and right choices, but in the end, it was just money and alcohol and cold beds and self pity.

This beautiful, kind hearted, crazy -- _he laughed to himself_ \-- blood-sucking woman was a better reason to fight than any he’d ever had before.  Eskel hopped into his pants, tieing a knot in the laces.  

_Let’s fight._

 

****

 

There wasn’t any shouting when they got to the bottom of the stairs.  No one leapt to their feet when Eskel and Maya came through the door.  It was either a good sign or a really terrible one.  

Maya walked beside him until they got near the table when she took a half step back, using him like a shield.  Eskel couldn’t blame her.  There were two people she’d never met in this room; both were infamous and more powerful than she was and both had killed more than their fair share of vampires and their kin.  Geralt was likely the most famous Witcher in the world.   Eskel had his moments with Geralt, but he wasn’t envious of that.  The entire idea made his palms itch.

It was Keira who acknowledged them first. She looked the same as always, sorceress glamour hiding whatever she really was underneath.  It always made him uneasy.  Her smile seemed genuine enough however as she waved them closer.  He couldn’t entirely trust her, but she had been good to Maya.    

“Good morning,” Keira said.  Her voice was neutral but like her looks, it was a mask.  He could sense both excitement and trepidation underneath.    

Geralt looked up and quickly grabbed Eskel’s forearm where it was crossed over his chest.  He managed to startle him just enough that with a yank, he pulled Eskel down on the bench beside him.  Geralt’s eyes flashed under his white eyebrows with mischief and he started to say something when he noticed Maya.  

Eskel followed Geralt’s gaze just in time to see Maya swallow hard.  A muscle in the back of her jaw twitched under her pale skin.  Geralt was silent for a moment and Eskel was almost afraid his medallion was trembling, even though he knew his own never reacted to Maya. He felt that weird sense of calm his Witcher training instilled in him start to sweep over him, as if there was going to be a fight.  But if Geralt hadn’t killed Regis, he sure as hell wasn’t going to hurt Maya.  That obvious fact didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from slowing into that familiar trance-like battle rhythm.

Geralt smiled faintly at Maya. “Hi.”  Maya smiled reflexively in reply.

Eskel wanted to punch him.

In that easy way he had, something that was more than just being a Witcher, Geralt slid further down the bench and patted the seat between himself and Eskel.  With less hesitation than he expected, Maya stepped over the bench and sat down between them.  Geralt offered his hand.  

“Geralt,” he said.  

Maya took his hand and shook it.  “Maya.”  For a moment, it looked like Geralt considered kissing her hand, but instead he smirked faintly and let go.  

Eskel really, really wanted to punch him.

Yennefer cleared her throat.  “If you’re done?” She sounded annoyed.  That helped.  Eskel felt Maya’s hand press up against his thigh and the urge to break Geralt’s perfect nose faltered and disappeared.  It was just Geralt being Geralt.  He didn’t even do it on purpose.

Geralt turned his attention back to Yennefer and flashed her a smile.  She gave him that look, that one you’d give your favorite dog, before flipping her hair back over her shoulder.  The movement sent a waft of her sweet perfume across the table.  She didn’t bother to introduce herself to Maya.  She assumed if you needed to know who she was, you already did.  

“Now,” she began.  “As you know, Geralt and I spent the winter in White Orchard, however I did split my time between the village and visiting Ciri in Nilfgaard.  Emhyr has completely removed himself from the public eye at this point, only serving as a private advisor.  He’s accepted, begrudgingly perhaps, that abdicating for Ciri means truly that.  She’s begun to implement new policies.  After all that happened in the last year, the people’s views have changed.  They seem to finally begin to understand that there are things in this world that cannot be handled without the help of magic.  While they don’t know the true extent of what transpired, attitudes towards mages, sorceresses and Witchers have most certainly improved.”

“I’ll bet,” Lambert groused. Yennefer shot him a withering look that Eskel was decidedly happy not to be on the receiving end of. He felt Maya’s fingers flex against him in silent communication.  Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he could see the tiny smile threatening on the corner of her mouth.  Yennefer was scary when she wanted to be, but mostly, she was predictable.  Apparently he’d done a passable job describing her to Maya.  He leaned against Maya just a little.

“Lambert’s cynicism aside,” Yennefer continued seamlessly.  “I’m not claiming that we’ll be welcomed by everyone with open arms, but Ciri has offered us all safe harbor in Nilfgaard.”

Lambert interrupted again.  “I can’t think of a worse idea,” he snipped.  “Isn’t this the place Geralt always said keeps mages on short leashes?”

“Emhyr did,” Geralt replied.  He rolled his shoulder.  “He was a piece of shit.  But this is Ciri we're talking about.”  He said her name fondly.  “She wouldn’t want us to come if it wasn’t safe.  Besides? What other options are there?  Even without Radovid, Redania is still full of zealots killing magic users on sight, Viszma is wary, and-” Geralt sighed and gestured around them, at the tall dusty hall that used to be warm and cozy where now light streamed through entirely too many cracks in the mortar for them to ever fix.  Kaer Morhen had been in poor enough repair before the battle with the Wild Hunt. Now, it was barely fit to live in. “There’s no reason to stay here anymore.”

“There is more,” Yennefer segued.  “Keira’s research would be greatly more effective with Nilfgaard’s resources and we have additional plans.  Potentially ways to create new Witchers again”

That got Eskel’s attention.  “How?  Everyone who knew how to do them is gone.”

“In its original form, yes, but we used the formulas to change Avallac'h to his true self again.  And as you all carry the mutations, with Keira’s knowledge, we should easily be able to reproduce them and modify them.”

“Why in the living fuck would we want to make more Witchers?” Lambert snapped.  “Do you think this is a fucking good way to go through life?  No one would choose this; it’s why they stole kids and forced it on us.”

Yennefer scowled at him.  “Do you think being a foot soldier is pleasant? Being a man who is fodder for his leader’s enemies?”  She shook her head, curls falling perfectly back into place. “Of course it isn’t, but it's necessary.  Wars will be fought. Ciri changed the fate of the world, but there are still monsters.  There will always be monsters.  Would you let the world be slaughtered if you could prevent it?”

Lambert looked away. “Of course not.”  He was good with the show that he only did what he did for coin; they all were, but there was a reason they were the last alive.  Giving a shit went a long way towards self preservation.

“Lambert, I’m not going to let them recreate what they did to us,” Geralt said.  He laid his palms flat on the table.  “We’re only going to do this if we can find a way to make sure more people don’t have to die to gain what we have.  And not lose everything we have.”  He grunted.  “And never if they aren’t willing.”  He paused again.  “Look, I’m tired.  I’m tired of all of this shit.  But wouldn’t it be good to come home somewhere that wasn’t falling apart and full of bad memories?” Geralt said.  “The only other option we have is to give up and all go our separate ways.  I don’t want that.  You can’t actually tell me you want that.”

Eskel hadn’t said much up until this point. Not that he could have gotten a word in, even if it was in his nature.  But it wasn’t the worst idea, really.  But there was one important factor he hadn’t mentioned.  Now or never.

“That depends,” Eskel said finally.  

“On what?” Geralt asked.  He gestured to Maya with his chin.  “On whether or not you can bring your new friend?”  He smirked but Eskel wasn’t amused.  “I doubt anyone would object.”  He frowned a little and shook his head at Eskel’s stoney expression.  “Thought you bringing home a woman would have made you less uptight, not more.  You look like you sat on a bee.” Geralt looked up at Lambert, expecting help in their favorite pastime ‘give Eskel shit’ but Lambert just licked his lips and stayed conspicuously silent.  Geralt looked over to Yennefer who just shrugged and then to Keira who shook her head.  His white eyebrows drew together as he turned back to Eskel and Maya.  

Eskel uncrossed his arms and put his hand on Maya’s trembling leg.  She pressed herself tighter against him. That paranoid part of him didn’t like the idea of telling them when she was between them.  He wanted to protect her, but he knew she was hardly vulnerable.  Geralt wasn’t even armed and he wasn’t prone to being rash.  And even if he got a funny idea, she could move faster than a Witcher.  Maya was hardly defenseless. Eskel’s heart pounded in his chest anyway.  

He took a breath before he spoke.  “I love her,” he said almost surprising himself that it came out first.  He shouldn’t have been surprised.  It was more important than the rest of it anyway.  “And she’s a high vampire.”

Geralt only raised an eyebrow but didn’t react beyond that.  

Maybe Geralt was calm, but Yennefer was prone to being rash and her voice cracked like a whip across the table.  “You didn’t think it was important to tell us there was a vampire here?”  Her cheeks were artfully flushed.

“Wouldn’t be the first vampire we’ve sat around a table with,” Geralt said blandly.  “Besides, if Eskel trusts her, I trust her,” Geralt said.  “He doesn’t trust anybody.”

Yennefer turned her violet eyes to Maya.  They seemed artificially bright, even more than usual.  She didn’t speak, just carefully looked at her, gauging her.  Eskel could feel faint wisps of magic flutter over them.  Yennefer was checking.  She was looking for traces that Maya was controlling him.  He could feel it in his marrow.  Finally, the magic pulled back and Yennefer’s face relaxed.  

“Do you drink blood?” she asked.  She was never one to mince words.

Maya opened her mouth but struggled.  He knew she hadn’t, not for centuries before she met him.  Even when she’s killed the Witch Hunter to save his life, she hadn’t done it on purpose.  But she did drink blood.  

“Mine,” he said before Maya could speak.  “Because I insisted.”

Lambert chuckled.  Geralt looked smug.  They knew what it was like.  

Yennefer raised a delicate eyebrow and rolled her eyes.  She sighed.  “Aside from that?”

Maya shook her head.  “Not for centuries.”

“All right.”  Yennefer put her hands on her hips.  “It’s settled then.  We can leave as soon as you’ve packed your things.”

“Hey wait,” Lambert interjected.  “I didn’t fucking agree to anything.”

“You are welcome to stay behind,” Yen said.  “But I think you’ll find your bed cold.”

He shot a look at Keira.  She looked pale.

“I have to go,” she said.  “We’ve failed to find a cure and I don’t have the resources to go any further, and certainly not without Maya’s help.”  She looked genuinely sad in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.  “I’m determined to end the Catriona.  Only magic can, I’m certain of it.”

Lambert put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands.  He rubbed his forehead hard.  When he looked up his eyebrows were comically disheveled.  “Fine,” he said.  “I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” Yennefer said.  “Let’s get to it.”

 


	15. By Starlight

Tomorrow.

They couldn’t travel by portal, not all of them or with all the things they wanted to take.  Kaer Morhen still had things of value, irreplaceable things, sentimental things.  Besides, Geralt hated portals and would walk through glass barefoot if he had to to avoid it.

It was harder to leave than Eskel thought it would be.

It had been easier to walk away the first time, riding on waves of his own grief and anger.  Easier to leave knowing that he could come back.  But this really was the end.  They would take everything valuable, everything they could carry and then they would destroy what was left.  They wouldn’t risk someone finding this place after they were gone and finding something they’d neglected to take with them.  

There were too many dangerous things that had passed through these gates to take chances.

It wasn’t the first time he’d watched Maya pack her things, but this time he understood what she went through.  Perhaps he’d been at Kaer Morhen for more years, more years than even seemed possible when he thought about it, but that little cottage was her home, just like this one was his.  

But she followed him then, even before fate had forced her to reveal her secret to him.  She followed him, still afraid that when he found out that he’d kill her.  She had every reason to be afraid of him, but she loved him enough even then to risk it.  It was hard to reconcile it in his head.  It was better not to think about it too hard.  

They were in the library.  He’d spent a lot of time here over scores of winters, pouring over dusty old parchment written by scholars and ancient Witchers, wizards and royalty.  Some were so old that the covers had long since worn bare, pages stained by countless fingertips.  Some were blood stained.  Some were bound in unrecognizable leather.

Every single one was valuable but most would have to be left behind.

Maya was sitting on the edge of a table, a pile of books haphazardly stacked at her hip.  She had her legs crossed at her ankles and a big tome open across her lap.  There were drawings on the pages, beautiful detailed painting of herbs and flowers and plants.  

He remembered that one.  Sadly, there wasn’t anything in it any herbalist worth their salt didn’t already know.  Beautiful as it was, it would have to stay behind.  From the look on Maya’s face, she’d clearly come to the same conclusion.  

They were leaving in the morning but they were stalling.

All the important things, the dangerous ones had been packed up already or destroyed.  All that was left were the sentimental, the pointlessly valuable things most of which would be left behind.  

Eskel watched her run her fingers over the paintings.  He’d done it himself plenty of times.  Sometimes, the world was very ugly and things like that, those beautiful, brightly colored petals, curled leaves, even the ivory paper showing through the translucent paint were comforting.

But it was just a thing.  And this was just a building, an old one at that, surviving long past the time it should have crumbled to dust.  Sometimes he felt the same way, but maybe it was time for that to change.  Maybe this was the start of something new for all of them.  

_Damn it, it was going to be._

Impulsively, he grabbed Maya’s hand and knocked the book out of her lap on to the floor.  She looked startled for a moment, but smiled when he stepped in between her knees and took her face between his hands.  He wanted to say something profound, something to express how this made him feel, how he made her feel.  But Eskel wasn’t good with words.  Words and poetry and all those romantic things always seemed beyond him.  But he knew about action.  

He kissed her.  He remembered the first time.  That first tiny kiss on his cheek, the first time she pressed her lips to the equally numb and sensitive ridges of his scars.  As amazing as those moments were, this was better.  This wasn’t something new, fragile.  This was something real, something worth hanging on to no matter how hard it might become.

This was love; not the word, the action.

This was just the beginning.

“I can’t wait,” he said against her lips.  “I can’t wait to start a new life with you.”

He felt her smile, felt her breath when she spoke.  “I never thought I could have a real life, one where I didn’t have to hide all the time.”

“No more hiding,” he said.  “I don’t know if anything will really change, but it’s worth trying.”

If he knew even one goddamn true thing in the entire world, it was that this was right.  This thing they found by accident was worth hanging on to.  Nilfgaard wasn’t exactly what he pictured in his head when he fantasized about having a happy ending, but he figured it would do.

Right now, he wanted a different kind of happiness. The table was just the right height for the wicked thought that crept into him head.  He grinned, pulling her close, sliding her across the old polished wood until her ass was right at the edge.  He fiddled around with her dress, managing to get it bunched up around her waist.  He wondered if he’d ever stop wanting her all the time, but he hoped not.

Maya wriggled her hips, rubbing herself against the completely unsubtle ridge of his erection.  She wore a cheeky grin, even if he could see her anxiety about what was to come underneath it.  

Shit, he _was_ getting better at this emotional crap.  But he was always a quick learner.

“I’m quite sure I’ve never been fucked in a library before,” she said, amused.  

“First time for everything.”

“Last time too,” she said.  He almost expected that would be enough to put him off.  He got the feeling she was hoping it would.  He didn’t like it.

Eskel frowned at her.  “They have libraries in Nilfgaard, I’m pretty sure.”

She didn’t look comforted.  “I know, I just-”  She put her hands behind her on the table and leaned back away from him.  “Have you ever been to Nilfgaard?”

He didn’t like where this was going but he took a step back and smoothed her dress back down over her thighs.  He left his hands there at least.

“Once or twice,” he said.  “I usually don’t travel that far unless the coin is really good.”

“I haven’t,” she said.  “I’ve been around for a long time, but I’ve never gone very far.  It’s not like I ever had a real home, not really, but Nilfgaard?  It sounds so foreign.  What if-”  She pursed her lips.  “What if something happens and I’m stuck there? In an unfamiliar place, not knowing how things work?”

_Nope, he didn’t like it._

“If what happens?  What’s going to happen there that couldn’t happen here?”

“It’s not that,” she said.  Her eyebrows were sagging down at the ends to match the corners of her mouth.  “But the last time I had anyone I could really trust was a long time ago.  My family.  It’s a weird thing, calling them that, a bunch of runaway vampire prostitutes and cast offs but that’s what they were.   _A family_. And this, gods, it feels so much like that did.  Like I can trust this little menagerie of monsters and magic but it makes me afraid.  What if I lose them, lose you, just like I lost them?”

“You might,” he admitted.  He wasn’t going to placate her with lies.  That was bullshit.  “Nothing lasts forever.”

“But I _might_ , “ she said.  “Immortality is fucked.”

“Yeah, well, so are a lot of things,” he said.  “What’s the alternative? Just go hide in a fucking crypt like a striga and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist?  You’re better than that.”  He moved to her side and leaned up against the table.  There would be plenty of time for other stuff.  She needed something else right now.  It was pretty damned ridiculous that he was going to try to help her with this, but she helped him get through plenty.  He was willing to try, even if this wasn’t really his strong suit.

He wished she’d ask him to kill a griffon or something.  That he was good at.

He bumped his shoulder into her.  “We could both get dead tomorrow; the world is screwed up.  Hell, if it wasn’t for Ciri, we’d all be icicles.  But we aren’t dead yet.  I spent years just going through the motions, and I feel like I just woke up.  Don’t get all grim on me now.” He laughed.  “I’m supposed to be fatalistic. Not you.”

Maya laughed.  It was a beautiful, unexpected sound.  He felt her warm fingers slide between his arm and his rib cage, curling around his bicep.  Her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“If you ever question why I love you or if I love you, remember right now,” she said.  She sounded like herself again, that edge of fear gone.  “And you’re adorable, but that’s just a perk.”

Eskel chuckled and put his hand over her fingers.  “Come on, let’s get the last of these books packed up.  We’re expected to join everyone for the big send off before we blow this place to hell tomorrow.”

“So tell me,” she asked, hopping down off the table and grabbing the top of her stack of books.  “When you drink with Geralt and Lambert, is it worse or better than when you just drink with Lambert?”

Eskel smirked.  “Last time, there was a goat and I discovered I don’t look half bad in a dress.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Eskel deadpanned as he picked up the rest of the books.  He was who he was.  

Maya shook her head at him.  “What have I gotten myself into?”

He shrugged.  “Hey, you’re the one who fell in love with me,” he said to her back as she walked toward the library door.  She had this little sway to her walk and it was terribly distracting.  He needed to pace himself tonight.  There were a lot better things he could do than play dress up with Geralt.

“You did it first,” she shot back over her shoulder.  

“That’s true.”

It was.  He had no regrets.

  


***

  


Lambert tried to sing and it was ridiculous.  

They were gathered around the fire, the crackling wood taking the damp chill out of the air.  Telling stories about Vesemir, about Ciri, about contracts that weren’t horrible but amusing instead.  Ridiculous stories about drinking and falling out windows and Geralt slogging through a sewer to hunt down a giant frog prince.  A real one.

They should be broken, all of them.  And not just the Witchers.  Not a one of them didn’t have a story that could have started with, _no shit, this really happened_ and ended with a near death experience.  

Saying goodbye to Kaer Morhen wasn’t the dour thing he was afraid it was going to be.  The pain of Vesemir’s death, of Leo’s, of all the bullshit that had happened, it was faded.  Vodka had never been enough to blunt it before.  There was always an edge of fatalism to what they did, even when they got half cocked ideas that three drunk idiots were going to convince beautiful women to talk to them.

Somehow they managed it sober.

Even Yennefer was smiling, at least half drunk herself, the top laces on her corset hanging loose.  Geralt had his head in her lap and she was braiding his hair.  Maya’s cheeks were pink and her eyes were bleary, but she was right there beside him with her hand entirely too far up his thigh to be decent.  Keira was egging Lambert on, even when he got on the table and knocked the bottle to the floor.  He nearly fell off afterwards and Keira managed to wrangle him off the table before he killed himself.  He ended up on his knees with his face pressed into her cleavage.

No one cared.  They earned this.  

Before Maya, he would have been paranoid, worried this was just the calm before the storm.  Nothing good ever happened without horrific consequences to undo what little joy any of them ever managed to eek out.  Tonight, they weren’t trying to hide in the booze.  They were celebrating.

“Eskel, buddy,” Geralt drawled, lolling his head in Yennefer’s lap to look at him.  “How’d you end up with a vampire?”  He squinted at Maya.  “A elf vampire?  How’s that work?”

“I bled on her.”

Geralt laughed.  “They way to a woman’s heart is through the jugular.”

Maya leaned forward, her elbow on her knee.  “The femoral artery, actually, ” she said, snide, gesturing with her hand.  “I got a really nice look at his thigh though.  Very distracting.”

Eskel thought he might be blushing, but his face was already hot from the liquor, so he couldn’t be sure.

Geralt snorted.  Then he frowned.  “But you didn’t, ah-”

“No, of course she didn’t,” Eskel interrupted.  “I didn’t even know until later.  She saved my ass.”

“Sounds like she took a good look at it too,” Lambert interjected.

Maya shrugged.  “It’s a nice ass.”

Usually Eskel was less than thrilled with laughter at his expense.  This time, he didn’t mind so much.  

“But that doesn’t explain the ears,” Geralt continued.  “I mean vampires are vampires, not elves.”

“I don’t know, I mean, the old fashioned way I guess.  My mother never talked about it, and I never thought to ask,” Maya explained.  

“Wait, that means...huh,” Lambert said, not quite able to articulate what he was thinking through the haze.

Keira shook her head, patted the back of his neck.  “What I think Lambert was so eloquently attempting to say, was that it means that things aren’t quite like he was taught.  Monsters,” she gave Maya a look, “If you’ll forgive the term, are supposed to be too different from men and elves to interbreed with them.  But I think they forget that elves too came into being from the same events that brought these other creatures to our world.  If we can have children with them, why not vampires?  Who knows what life will accomplish?” 

“A lot of the stuff we know is bullshit,” Eskel said.

Geralt nodded.  He sort of half sat up, draping his arm over Yennefer’s lap and resting his head in the palm of his hand.  “Lots of goddamn secrets and maybe in Nilfgaard Ciri can help us figure them out.  No more of this shit.  Everything out in the open.”

“Here, here!” Lambert’s voice was muffled by Keira’s chest.  They laughed again.

They were happy.

_Finally._

 


	16. Equinox

Keira opened the portal with a shimmer of light.

“All right then,” she said, patting the grey mare’s snout with careful fingers.  “Come with me.”  Storm balked at her a little.  She was due to foal any day now; it wasn’t safe to have her try to make the journey to Nilfgaard on foot.  Keira would take her through the portal and meet them there.  Yennefer had already gone ahead, taking the most fragile and delicate of the equipment from the lab with her.

Maya rubbed her hand along Storm’s distended belly, the pale dawn light outlining her profile.  Eskel could see the ridges of legs move inside the mare, responding to Maya’s touch.  He wondered what Scorpion’s foal would look like.  Wasn’t exactly careful breeding, but sometimes life was like that.

“Go on girl,” Maya said.  “Keira will take good care of you and your baby.”

Storm nickered softly but stopped pulling against the halter and let Keira lead her.  Lambert didn’t say anything, just watched as Keira disappeared into the swirl of light.  The portal closed behind her.  He cleared his throat.

Eskel watched Maya give him a knowing look and Lambert sort of smiled at her and nodded.  It was funny, seeing that.  Lambert trusted Maya too.  Never thought he’d see the day.

“All right men,” Geralt said, swinging up on to Roach’s back.  “And lady,” he added to Maya.  “Let’s do this.”

Eskel turned back toward Kaer Morhen.  There wasn’t much left.  Smoke and dust still billowed up from the rubble.  Yennefer and Keira had worked together, using magic the tear the keep apart.  Only a jumble of stones and broken timbers was left.  Even if scavengers tried, it would take years to dig through it.  By the time they managed it, the weather and time would have done the rest, making anything they were forced to leave behind completely worthless.

He looked back at Maya, running her fingers through Scorpion’s forelock as the stallion nosed into her hair.  

He had the important things with him.  Everything else didn’t matter.

Lambert sniped at him from his perch in the front of the wagon.  “Well, let’s get on with it.  I want to get to a tavern before nightfall.  Sleeping outside is bullshit.”

“Right.”  Eskel nodded.  Not that he cared much where he slept, as long as he had Maya with him.  Taking her around the waist, he boosted her up into Scorpion’s saddle and swung up behind her.  He wrapped his arm around her.  She settled back against him, her perpetually warm fingers over his.

Geralt grinned at them and nudged Roach forward.  Lambert snapped the reigns and the cart wheels creaked forward.  He felt Maya take a deep breath and her fingers squeezed his.

“Off to our new adventure then,” she said.  Her voice was soft and a little frightened.  

He tightened his arm around her as he prodded Scorpion forward.  Hooves crunched in the slushy snow, against the hard packed dirt and gravel underneath.  They fell into rhythm with the movement unconsciously.

“It is a beautiful morning,” Maya said, her head resting back against his chest, her face towards the bright sky as the run crept up over the horizon.  The light lit up her face, made her hair glow, sparkled off her damp eyelashes.

Eskel kissed the top of her head but didn’t say anything.  

She was right.  It really was beautiful.

 

  
THE END

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